


The Price of the Crown

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Blood and Violence, Castiel & Meg Masters Friendship, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, F/M, Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Torture, King Azazel, M/M, Minor Character Death, Prince Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-03-08 16:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 32,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18898057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Sam Elysia is the Son of the King, Azazel. Life isn't easy, not even with his best friend Castiel. Things at Court are tense, the King isn't nicknamed the Mad-King for no reason. Desperate to help his friends, but avoid the wrath of Azazel, will Sam stand up to the King? And if he does, will he win?





	1. Prince

**Author's Note:**

> New fic! Please comment/leave kudos, thanks! I will try and update daily :)

Sam woke, unsurprisingly, with someone already in his room. He rolled just enough to watch the maid walk to the curtains, drawing them back to let sunlight stream in. He would have argued, but the maid was new, and a gift from his father. Arguing wouldn’t be a wise idea, not this early on. So, instead of complaining about the light in the room, he merely rolled back and lay on the pillows. The maid moved on, going to the fire and remaking it, while Sam rubbed sleep from his eyes.

‘What’s your name?’ He asked, sleep still groggy from sleep as he sat up, the sheet coming with him. The girl gasped, almost dropped the sticks she was holding, then tried to turn too fast and tripped over the ridiculous outfit. Eventually, she got her balance and dropped to a curtsey, like Sam cared about that while he was lying in bed.

‘Forgive me, your highness, I meant only to…’

‘Relax.’ The single word cut her out of her rant, and her eyes flicked up to his, unsure. Sam sighed, hating how they feared him, and he sat up. Wincing slightly at the pain as his muscles tried to cooperate, he turned his attention back to the young woman.

‘Tell me your name.’ He politely asked, and she rose from the curtsey that must have been hard to hold, studying him like he’d asked for the world.

‘Lilah.’ She finally said, looking down. Sam remembered his last maid, and the ones before that, all of them ending up in his father’s bed like some… No. He didn’t need to think about it, because, in the end, it was Sam that got told of for their lack of discipline.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Lilah. In the mornings, I prefer to be woken before the curtains are open. Don’t worry about the fire, I never use it. Feel free to walk around my chambers as you please, although do refrain from the cupboard over there.’ He gestured to the locked closet in the corner, then looked back to her.

‘I don’t mind what you do in your free time, although, if you’re going to sneak around the Palace, I must insist you hide it.’ He thought back to Marie, his last maid, and shuddered slightly. The look of embarrassment as his father called him out in front of the court, telling him of his failure, that his own maid was dallying around the Palace freely.

‘With respect, your Highness, we’ve all heard about what happens to the maids that do.’ He wasn’t surprised, his father usually enjoyed rubbing salt into existing wounds. Sam sighed, stepping out of the bed carefully.

‘Forgive me if I’m not quick to trust.’ Sam snapped back, the girl dropping her gaze instantly. He sighed, the girl evidently did not have a backbone, and would end up in the King’s bed, or any of the guards, by the end of the day. He didn’t bother getting introduced anymore, walking to his dressing room. She offered to help, but he declined, shutting the door between them. Dressing quickly, he left his Chambers, not pointing out that she hadn’t managed to make the bed yet. He had bigger things to worry about.

 

Breakfast was a quick affair, his father was not there, so he didn’t need to wait for him. The eyes of the Court followed him wherever he was, but Sam had no need to worry. He was doing nothing that would result in the King’s anger, so he was free to do as he pleased. In fact, he spent the day in the library, reading. His only friend, if you could ever call an employee of the King a friend, was away with his family at the moment, so Sam didn’t really have anyone to talk to. The library was his favourite place, sitting there, he could almost forget the title given to him, forget what he was supposed to be.

Unfortunately, two people disturbed his silence, coming into the library arguing. In fact, there were three, one a crying woman who had a torn gown. Sam should probably have intervened, but he was more amused by the fact that a woman holding a potato peeler was currently shouting at a Guard, one of the Royal Household. If she didn’t get flogged for insolence, she would lose her job at the very least.

‘How DARE you lay a hand on her!’ She screeched, rather like a banshee, in the books he was reading. Sam untucked his long legs, standing silently as he watched the guard go to hit her. She ducked, bringing her knee up into his groin. The injured girl sobbed harder, and Sam decided it was probably best to intervene now, before someone ended up staining the library red with blood. When he appeared, the girl with the torn gown sunk into a curtsey, the girl with the potato peeler just staring at him. The Guard straightened, although he bowed his head.

‘Is there a problem?’ Sam inquired, wishing he could go back to his book and not have to worry about an idiotic Guard who evidently couldn’t just ask a woman to have sex with him. Or maybe he had, and the answer hadn’t been the one he wanted.

‘Your Highness, merely a disagreement between me and my girlfriend, then this wench came and started threatening me.’ Sam watched the girl ball her fists up at the term, but Sam stepped forward, effectively snapping her attention back to him.

‘Go, before I find reason to suggest that you were breaking the Code of Conduct.’ It was a pretty crappy threat, but coming from him, the Guard looked ready to cry. He ran, fleeing out of the room and Sam turned to the girl that was sobbing.

‘Take her to the medical wing and have that cut looked at, Miss…’ He trailed off, turning to Potato-Peeler girl, who grinned. Placing a hand over her heart, she gave a bow.

‘Masters. Meg Masters, your Royalness.’ It was almost mocking, although she did bow, so he didn’t push it. In fact, he smiled slightly, amused. Leaving the two to walk away, he turned just in time to see a Guard enter the other door to the library.

‘Your Highness, the King wishes to see you in the throne room. There has been an… issue.’ Sam had no doubt that it was the maid, Lilah, but he nodded anyway. He had always hated the throne room, hated what it stood for, hated everything about it. Walking in, he looked to his father, who appeared to be currently dealing with a petition.

Anyone could petition to the King, as long as they lived within the Elysian Empire. His father, Azazel Elysian, was the man in charge. The King of an empire forged in bloodshed and tears, something Sam didn’t respect too much. They looked nothing alike, Sam was more like his mother, Eve. She died when he was young, and since then, he’d been treated like… well. To the Court, he was the Heir to the throne. To his father, he was nothing more than the child who wouldn’t bend to his will.

‘You wished to see me, sire?’ He stopped at the appropriate distance, bowing to the King, before looking to the man petitioning. He was an elderly man, clearly in need of assistance, but he doubted his father would listen. He never did.

‘Yes, Samuel, I did. You’re dismissed.’ He said to the man, who tried not to weep as he stood up, bowing lowly. Sam gave a nod to him as he received a bow, but he could do nothing to assist him. Once they were alone, except for the Guards, his father spoke.

‘Your Maid was found in the lobby with one of the Guards. Explicitly.’ Sam praised himself for recognising that she was useless, but he still kept still.

‘I am sorry, father. I did not have time to train her.’ That would stop any immediate action, his father could not expect him to have trained a woman with so little time. Azazel nodded briefly, fingers drumming on the edge of the throne, before they tensed.

‘You are forgiven this one time, but it appears to be occurring… repeatedly.’ Sam didn’t deny that, but he also found it highly unfair that Azazel was purposefully making it hard to keep them in check, nobody dared so no to the King. Especially not a maid.

‘If I may, sire, I believe I have the solution. A good candidate, to replace the last.’ Sam was taking a risk. A big one, but an insolent maid may be better than one that slept around the Court. Azazel looked amused, like he just found it a bigger challenge.

‘Very well. The name, of this servant?’ Servant, not employee. Sam bit his tongue to stop the words that would undoubtedly spill, steeling his resolve before answering.

‘Meg Masters, I believe she works in the kitchen.’ Sam stated, and his father gave him a long look. But, for once, he didn’t argue. Sam bowed low, not trusting his mind to keep quiet. Now, to tame an unruly maid.


	2. Royalness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little insight into the life of the Prince, and the development of his friendship with Meg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam being hurt in this Chapter. Just an fyi.

‘Your Royalness needs to get his Royal backside up.’ Sam was hit with a pillow, and he grinned. With Castiel not returning for at least another week, Sam had Meg to wake him up in the mornings. Three weeks, and she hadn’t messed up at all. Okay, maybe there was an incident with a Guard and a fire poker, but Sam had smoothed it over and told Meg that she couldn’t go round poking people with sharp objects. She’d turned round and told him that was the fun of sex. Then laughed when Sam turned red.

‘No I don’t.’ He groaned, hearing the curtains open. Meg was actually quite good company, she would sit with him in the library and deal with him reading to her in many different languages, dealt with his endless walks around the Gardens.

‘You do. You father wants to see you, remember?’ Of course, Sam was needed to speak to the Royal Ambassador from overseas. Nothing important, but Elysia was such a vast state, many people wanted to trade. His father rarely saw the point, claiming that if they needed something they didn’t have, they could just take it from the people that had it. Sam disagreed, eventually swaying the Council to creating trading agreements. He just had to maintain them.

‘Stay here today, I don’t want my father to find reason to show you up in front of the overseas visitors.’ Sam could have made it an order, but he didn’t really need to. Meg had enough self-preservation not to do something stupid. She wolf-whistled when he took his shirt off, like she didn’t find his scarred torso disgusting, and he pulled on royal-wear.

‘Have fun.’ She stated, although he could see the slightest bit of concern on her face. He did the belt-buckle up, adjusting his jacket with the royal emblem on. Nodding to Meg, he slipped out of the Chambers.

**

It had been a disaster. The country that the man was from, a small state called Promea, needed assistance. Assistance that Azazel had declined, then told the man that the Court was not a place to beg. Promea would fall without their help, and Sam knew it. He also knew that the trading agreement wouldn’t stand, and so he would be in trouble for losing them money. The man had begged, cried, called his father some very choice words. Threatening to have him thrown into Jail, the man eventually left, and Sam had been called to private chambers.

Walking down the corridors, the Guards actually looked sorry for him, Azazel’s temper was a terrifying thing. Sam didn’t pay them any mind, walking through the corridors and into his father’s room. Azazel turned, his yellow eyes focusing on Sam as he faced him.

‘Explain.’ It was the only chance Sam would get to defend himself, so he thought of the best words to speak. Anything wrong, even the slightest thing he didn’t agree with, and Sam would be in trouble.

‘Promea had minerals we needed. The trade did us material-good, even though we lost money on the trading port. Once they’ve recovered, it will be beneficial to us.’ Azazel seemed to consider the words, nodding along. His father wasn’t in an awful mood, allowing Sam to speak was a nicety. It also made Sam push the boundaries slightly.

‘If we helped them… even a little. It could be beneficial, help them recover, and we get our money back.’ The slap echoed out, Sam feeling his lip split and the rings on his father’s fingers dig in to flesh. Sam held still, despite how bad he wanted to speak.

‘You are NOT the King here. We do not assist the WEAK.’ He hissed, spitting the words out as Sam shuddered, not wanting to be that close. By walking back, and hitting the desk, he found himself trapped. His father’s hand reached for his throat, and the Prince held still as he found the air to his lungs cut off. Just the slightest of pressure, although he knew it would bruise. That was the idea. Nobody would ever stop Azazel, not even Sam.

‘You’ll spend the next week in your Chambers. I have no use for you, boy.’ It was phrased as an insult, and just as Sam feared for his conscious state, he was thrown back. His head hit the desk, hands gripping the wood as he forced himself to stand. Promea was lost, and Sam couldn’t convince him to help.

‘Yes, your Majesty.’ He muttered, bowing low, ignoring his throbbing head. Azazel didn’t turn to face him, so Sam left the room, clicking the door shut behind him and resting against the door.

‘Your Highness? Should I call for the Healers?’ A guard inquired, and Sam looked at him. Pity, that was the emotion that spread across the man’s face. Sam shook his head, dabbing at his bleeding head gently. He didn’t need a healer, he needed to get to his Chambers before Azazel decided he wasn’t worth the time.

The corridors spun wildly, Guards looking concerned, but non dare reach for the son of the King. Even like this, they knew who had done it, and helping would be risking treason. So, un-helped, Sam made it to his Chambers. The door pushed open, and he heard Meg sing something, before she came into his vision. Well, three of her. Her gasp was enough to tell Sam that he maybe wasn’t over-reacting, and he pitched forward onto the nice cream carpet.

**

‘Good Morning, your Highness.’ Sam smiled warmly, Hannah was a nice woman, elderly, and had been in the Palace for as long as Sam could remember. She helped him when he was a child, coming in with scraped knees and bruises. Now, three days after his head had been cut open, she came to check on him. Meg stood in the doorway, having been by his side constantly, apart from fetching food.

‘Honestly, Hannah, I feel fine. Better than that, I can get up.’ They didn’t say it, but they both knew he didn’t really have that many places to go. He was limited to his Chambers, six rooms in total, and leaving them would result in something worse than a sore head and a bruised throat.

‘Even so, my Prince, best to be safe.’ He took the medicine dutifully, and she smiled. He couldn’t quite call her a friend, she was answerable to the King before him, but she did keep secrets occasionally.

‘Has the King allowed this?’ He asked, knowing that his father would rarely allow the wounds he inflicted to be treated. He could understand her coming three days ago, when Sam had fallen unconscious, but now seemed risky.

‘The King is pre-occupied, and so does not need know.’ Sam sighed, looking to the window as she checked the bruising on his throat.

‘No permanent damage, your Highness.’

‘Thank you, Hannah.’ She smiled warmly, before Meg came forwards and perched on the edge of the bed. Hannah excused herself, and Sam turned to his maid, his friend, a smile forming on his face.

‘You were concerned.’ He stated, knowing it was true. Meg rolled her eyes, flopping back onto the bed, right over Sam’s legs like he wasn’t a Crowned Prince, more a friend.

‘I didn’t want to go back to peeling potatoes.’ She quipped, but he knew that she had been concerned. He, even partially unconscious, had felt her cradle his head while they waited for Hannah to arrive. He smiled at Meg, before relaxing back.

‘Three days till Castiel returns, and you will not be lonely.’ He stated, hoping they got along. Castiel was an interesting person, his personality odd, but Sam got along with him well. He enjoyed the stories of his home town, and hoped that Castiel and Meg would get along.

‘From what you’ve told me, I’m sure I will. Now rest, your Highness, you need sleep.’ He didn’t point out that she’d used his official title, instead relaxed back down onto the pillows. Meg moved around the room, settling for a while to read, before Sam admitted he couldn’t sleep. In truth, he didn’t trust the nightmares. It was usually fine when Meg wasn’t in the room, because she wouldn’t notice. With her sleeping in Castiel’s room for the last couple of nights, he knew she could hear him crying out.

Sam sighed, looking across to the girl who put the book down. She smirked, coming across to hand him water, without him asking. He accepted, smiling slightly.

‘Thank you, Meg.’

‘No issues, Your Royalness.’


	3. Clarence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel returns.

Castiel rode back towards the Palace, a smile on his face. He was lucky, being the only staff employed directly under the Prince, meaning that he got to take holidays whenever he liked. He didn’t take advantage of it, in fact, he tried to stop the Prince from paying him. After all, he lived in Sam’s quarters free of charge, ate with him usually, and still got paid. Most of the money went back to the Novak household, especially for his brothers.

The Novak rode happily, although he needed a favour from the Prince. He hated asking Sam for favours, especially when they had something to do with the King. Castiel had seen what Azazel could do to his own son, seen the bruises and blood. When he went home, when the village asked questions about the mysterious Prince and Court life, he had to be careful not to mention the parts where the Prince lived in constant fear of his father. His family knew, as did his boyfriend’s family and the local priest, who was the reason Castiel needed a favour.

Bobby Singer was a friend to all of those in the Village, none more so than the Novak and Winchester households. The Church had been looted, they did not have enough money to support it, and the Priest was coming to the King to petition for help. Knowing that most petitions failed, Bobby had asked Castiel if he could ask the Prince for assistance. It had been at the family meal, and everyone had stopped eating, looking to Castiel. He rarely talked about Sam, mostly for fear of blurting out more than should be said about the young man.

The groom reached for the horse as he halted, sliding from the saddle. He made it to the servants’ entrance, opening the door and striding in. The Guard was one that he knew, Geoff, and he felt safe is asking him the location of the Prince. It was day time, he would probably be in the library. Sam did have a love of reading, and Castiel enjoyed the many languages that Sam could translate for him. Not many people in the village could read or write, Castiel had been taught both by his friend, and had taught the people back home. His family, and Deans, now knew how to fluently read and write. On occasion, he would try and teach them the old language, something Sam taught him.

‘Where is the Prince?’ Castiel inquired, and the Guard stared at him.

‘Castiel. Good to see you back. Confined in his Chambers, I’m afraid.’ Although he didn’t say it, Castiel knew the implications of Sam being in his Chambers. He’d done something to annoy the King, and was probably hurt. His steps sped up, practically running through the servant’s wing to try and reach Sam. A month’s holiday had been too long, he should have been back in time to prevent Sam from getting too close to Azazel.

When he spotted Hannah, a close friend to him, and Sam’s usual Healer, he almost cried with relief. She was talking to a blonde woman who Castiel hadn’t seen before, and hoped he wasn’t intruding when he ran across. Hannah pulled him into a hug, but he pushed back sharply, frantic.

‘What happened to Sam?’ He didn’t bother with the title, too afraid that Sam was injured. Hannah reached for his hands, soothing him and he realised that it couldn’t be too bad if she was down here.

‘Castiel, calm down. He’s fine, it was an incident a week ago. Meg here had been assisting him, he’s fine.’ Castiel relaxed, before realising he’d been introduced to the woman, who was looking him up and down.

‘Meg Masters, the new maid to the Prince. I’ve heard a lot.’ He hoped it was good, taking her offered hand and shaking. She wasn’t like Marie, who had been too docile and simple. Castiel still remembered how shaky she had been after betraying the Prince.

‘Castiel Novak. I thought his maid was called Lilah?’ He’d been informed, before he’d left, about the new maid. Hannah sighed, patting his hand.

‘Called out on the first day. The Prince offered Meg the job, a story I’m sure she’ll tell you.’ Hannah excused herself, and Meg gestured to the stairs.

‘Come, Clarence. His Royalness has been waiting for you.’ Castiel didn’t wonder if she called him that to his face, by her attitude, she no doubt did. He didn’t ask about the nickname either, following her to the Prince’s quarters. When the door opened, and Sam turned, Castiel immediately took note of the injuries. Fading bruises around the throat, one on the jaw, and a nasty cut to the side of the head that was healing.

‘Cas.’ He got pulled in for a hug, hearing the door click behind him as Meg came in. He hugged back, before Sam gestured to the chairs.

 

He learnt about what had happened since he’d been gone. Promea was gone, Sam tried to defend them, which had ended in the bruises. Meg provided the story of how they had met, which made him smile. Trust Sam to take a woman who threatened Guards under his wing, the Prince sure would end up with more bruises.

‘So, how’s Dean?’ Sam asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Meg looked intrigued, leaning forwards and staring right at Castiel, and he figured it would be better to get the teasing over with.

‘He admitted to liking me. We went on a date.’ Sam clapped happily, and Meg looked amused, Sam turning to her.

‘Dean’s this guy from one of the other big families in the town, Castiel’s been pining for ever!’ Castiel blushed, but didn’t deny it. Meg grinned, giving him a thumbs up as he explained about the date, and how his brother Gabriel had been stubborn enough to give Dean the “don’t hurt my baby brother” talk. Eventually, he talked about the Church. Sam’s eyes widened, listening to Castiel explain how Bobby was coming to the King in two days-time to ask for the assistance of the King. He didn’t ask for help, but Sam saw it.

‘I’ll try everything I can, Cas.’

‘Sam, I’m not sure now is the best time…’ Cas looked to the bruises, knowing Sam wouldn’t want to talk about his relationship with his father. Sure enough, his face darkened slightly, a sight that would make most fear the wrath of Azazel’s son. But Sam was nothing like him, and so Castiel held still.

‘It’s fine, Cas.’ He assured, and although he didn’t believe it, Castiel did not argue. Dinner was eaten, the three of them together, and Meg admitted to sneaking wine down in the kitchens. Sam snorted with laughter, topping her glass up as they feasted. When a knock at the door sounded, Sam was the one to answer it, despite having a maid. Castiel stood up sharply when the King himself walked in, gripping Meg and pulling her up.

Sam came round, standing between them, despite Castiel bowing. Meg dropped to a curtsey, while the King looked to the wine.

‘I expect you at court in the morning, Samuel.’ He snapped, not bothering to tell them to rise, so Castiel stayed low. He heard Sam’s brief reply, before the King looked at them. Castiel could feel the gaze burning into him, so stayed still.

‘I heard a Priest from Mr Novak’s village was coming.’ It wasn’t a question, and if Sam was smart, he wouldn’t take the opportunity.

‘Yes, sire. In fact, I wished to talk to you about it.’ Castiel risked glancing up, seeing an amused smile on the King’s face. Like he knew that Sam would ask.

‘Of course. I’ll see you in my Chambers, first thing tomorrow.’ That was risky, Sam rarely went there unless it was to be hit. Sam bowed, staying low until the door shut. Castiel stared at the Prince, then back to Meg. This was a risky game.


	4. Church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam supports Castiel's village

Sam stood still, by his father’s side, staring at the Priest. Castiel was in the room, to the side with Meg. Apart from them, it was just the Guards in the room. Sam had heard a lot about Bobby Singer, and when he sunk to his knees for the proposition, he hoped his father would stick to his end of the bargain.

Bobby spoke about the Church being destroyed, about needing money to repair it. Churches offered no real income, they were exempt from tax, so it offered no outcome.

‘I see no real reason for investing. After all, the Church will not raise me back any money.’ The King stated, and Sam could see the desperation on the man’s face. Also, hatred. But he hid it well, just like Sam managed.

‘However, you have the favour of the Prince. He’s agreed to pay, all expenses covered. It will be his loss.’ The last bit was aimed at Sam, who turned his head dutifully to his father. The Priest began to thank him, but the King stood, and he fell silent. Sam held still as he approached, knowing it was about the power of having control, of showing the Priest that Sam was nothing to the King.

‘You’ll go with the two of them, and your unruly maid, to the Village. Oversee the works yourself. I’ll have three of my men go with you, to ensure your… behaviour.’ Sam wasn’t expecting that, it was almost certainly a chance for Sam to mess up, to get too involved and show weakness.

‘Whatever you wish, sire.’ He bowed slightly, before his hair was gripped tightly, head yanked back. For a moment, the other hand that was raised looked like it was going to hit, and Sam held still.

‘Anything other than perfect, boy, and you’ll be right back here.’ He warned, and Sam held still, held the gaze. It wasn’t a challenge, Sam wasn’t that thick. The bruises on his throat were enough to assure his compliance.

‘Yes, your Majesty.’ He finally stated, and the King let him go, Sam bowing low.

‘Dismissed. You leave in the morning.’ Sam bowed again, before walking across to Meg. Castiel went for Bobby, and the four left.

 

He packed a bag, his oldest and least expensive clothing. The last thing he wanted to do was to stand out, he hated being given attention, and Azazel knew that. Meg was silent as he packed, which he was thankful for. This was costing Sam a lot of money, the items needed had been purchased from his own pocket. He said nothing, didn’t bother dismissing Meg, who went to the couch. Castiel returned, but Sam was not in the mood to talk, and the man went to bed.

His dreams were filled with the smell of smoke, the taste of metallic blood, the screams from people falling. The first lesson Sam had ever been taught, kill, or be killed. He’d watched his father slice through families, made people bleed. When he woke up screaming, tearing at the skin on his thighs as if it would stop the horrors of what his father was, he saw both is friends standing in the doorway. He ignored them, rolling over and clutching the sheets tightly, he would not be afraid.

Sam Elysian was a Prince, son of the King, the only heir to the Kingdom. He would not feel fear for things in the Past, would not allow his father to haunt him like this. Even thought he knew it was foolish, there was no way that Sam could ever stop remembering the pleas of the innocent begging to be saved, he pushed the thoughts down. The night trickled on, and he didn’t make a sound again.

 

Breakfast was a silent affair. Sam was not in the mood, especially when he saw the three Guards his father had picked. Gavin, the lead Guard, was one that he did not like very much. Loyal to his father entirely, and with a habit of dobbing Sam in, even though he was a Prince.

‘We need to go, Your Highness.’ Sam had only packed a small bag, despite being a Prince. He didn’t need help mounting his horse, offering a hand to Meg, who swung up behind him. Gavin gave a look, telling him that he shouldn’t be sharing a horse with a servant, but Sam ignored him. The other two Guards stayed back, and Castiel appeared on a horse with Bobby, mounted on a grey mare.

‘My Prince, thank you sincerely for…’

‘Please, call me Sam. And it’s no bother, any friends of Castiel’s are friends of mine.’ Gavin gave him another look, but the Priest was beaming at him.

‘Sam…’ That was Cas, who was nodding ahead. Sam settled back in the saddle, urging the horse, Thunder, to ride. Meg clutched tightly as they cantered off, Sam not really noticing, ignoring everything apart from the freedom of being allowed out of the Palace.

It took the entire day to ride, three breaks, in which Meg rode with Cas for one, then returned to Sam. He didn’t mind having her with him, Thunder was bred to carry much heavier, and she was pleasant to ride with. Gavin didn’t speak, although he gave Sam looks when he shared his water with Bobby and Cas, like he was one of them rather than a Prince. Truth be told, Sam did not care much for the Guard, he knew whatever happened, his father would find reason to have him punished.

‘Sam, this is it. Westbrook.’ Sam drew back, allowing Castiel and Bobby to ride in. People came out to greet them, Cas dismounting and hugging some people, kissing a man that must have been Dean. Hushed whispers came when Sam urged his horse in, dismounting smoothly and helping Meg down. Castiel turned, smiling.

‘Sam, this is my father, Chuck. My brothers, Lucifer, Michael and Gabriel. This is Dean, and his father, John.’ The town watched as the Prince moved forwards, offering out his hand to Chuck.

‘Pleasure to meet you, Mr Novak.’ The poor man looked frightened, and Sam remembered the stories they must have heard about the Elysian Royal Family.

‘An honour, my Prince.’ He bowed his head, and Sam felt the stab of annoyance.

‘Sam is fine, to any of Castiel’s friends and family.’ He smiled, hoping it came off as friendly.

‘Your Royalness, can I sit down. My legs burn like fire.’ Meg stated dramatically, flopping down onto a nearby log. Sam smiled, before turning back.

‘I hope to have the Church restored as quickly as possible, I am sorry that the King would not do more.’ Chuck was still staring at him like he had three heads, so he turned to Cas for assistance.

‘Right. I’ll show you to my house. Are you alright sharing a room with Meg?’ The town looked horrified that Castiel would offer such a thing, like they would have cleared their houses so that Sam could sleep. Sam was grateful for his friend.

‘Whatever suits. Unless you want the bed to yourself, Meg. I’m good with the floor.’ He offered, turning to her, and she snorted with amusement.

‘You? Sleeping on a floor?’

‘I’ve slept on worse.’ Sam stated lightly, remembering beds of dead bodies, the stench. He turned back to the Guards, who were staring at him with looks of annoyance.

‘Unsaddle the horses, feed and water. Pay for it, as well.’ He snapped, and all three bowed. He grinned happily, Castiel laughing softly.

‘I really hate those guys.’

‘Me too, Cas.’ He stated, then turned to Bobby.

‘Right, time to see the Church.’


	5. Fight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam enjoys a more simple life. It doesn't work

It was amazing. Sam loved it, honestly, this was incredible. The town was like a community, and by the end of the first week, he quickly got used to their customs. Like how they would get water from the pump every morning, work during the day, gather in the evening. They mostly stayed away from Sam, but he didn’t mind. He spent most of his time in the Church, organising the builders.

At night, he slept with Meg, who stuck to her side of the bed. Chuck had given up trying to convince him to take his, Sam adamantly stating he didn’t need that. He ate at the Church, worried that they would try and feed him like a Prince rather than one of them. Dean seemed nice, he was happy with Cas, and Cas seemed just as happy.

Sam was walking back to the house, having gone across early-morning to ensure that the plastering would happen today. Bobby would be at the Novak household, they ate outside the cottage, with the two Winchesters. Sam wandered down the track, before a small girl came running out. She stopped when she saw him, grinning toothily. He crouched down, a smile on his face.

‘Hey there, what’s your name?’

‘Lissa. What’s yours?’ She had a gap in her teeth at the front, making the s sound funny, but Sam grinned.

‘Sam. What’re you doing out here?’ He asked, and the girl bounced happily. He admired her dress, they dressed well for a village on the outskirts.

‘I wanted an apple, but I couldn’t reach, so I went to grab a broom!’ She exclaimed, and Sam chuckled. Nobody would ever treat him this freely, unless they were Meg or Cas, and he enjoyed having a conversation with someone that didn’t fear him.

‘How about you take me to the apple, and I’ll see if I can help.’ That pleased Lissa, who offered her hand. Sam accepted, walking back to the village with her. Some people stared, shocked expressions, and he could tell they were watching as they reached the tree. Lissa pointed to a nice red apple, and Sam pretended to look confused.

‘Hmm, I might not reach. How about you sit on my shoulders, you might reach then!’ Lissa nodded, Sam lifting her up and sitting her on his shoulders. She squealed happily, fingers reaching for the apple. When she’d managed to pull it off, he lifted her back down and she bit into it with a smirk.

‘Momma.’ She pointed to a woman that was eating breakfast, or had been, before she’d seen Sam helping her daughter. The woman had gone still, evidently wondering if she was bothering him. He bent back down, turning to her.

‘It was nice to meet you, Lissa.’

‘Nice to meet you too.’ She stated, and he ruffled her hair affectionately. She went running off, and Sam walked towards where Castiel and Meg were watching.

‘MR SAM!’ He turned back, Lissa offering out her half-bitten apple. He accepted, biting down and enjoying the taste. She beamed, running off for the second time. He walked across to his friends, Castiel looked amused.

‘People look at me like I’m odd.’ Sam said, finishing off the apple and offering the core to the goat in the Pen by the side of the Novak household. It ate it, and Castiel laughed.

‘You’re the son of a man they fear.’ Sam thought about it, agreeing with them, before they heard a scream. Sam turned, watching Gavin stride into the clearing, his hand wrapped in a man’s hair. The man was thrown into the dirt, a woman being held back by the other two guards as she sobbed. The town went still, Gavin looking down.

‘This man, as I’m sure you all know, has been petitioning against the King!’ Sam looked to Castiel, seeing the red on his cheeks. So, the guy was anti-Azazel.

‘That’s because he’s wrong! The bastard killed my parents, I won’t bow down to him!’ The man screamed, and Gavin unsheathed his sword, resting it on his shoulder. That was enough to draw Sam out of his stupor, running across to the scene.

‘Stop!’ He stated, glaring at Gavin.

‘My Prince, what he said is treason. Punishable by death. As of the law, I’m authorised to kill him.’ That… was true. Sam hesitated, not really sure he wanted to get in the middle of this, before he saw Lissa staring.

‘Stand down, Guard.’ Sam snapped, and Gavin stared at him like he was mad.

‘Prince, if you stand between us, the King will not be merciful.’ The idiot Guard went to shove the sword forwards, and Sam basically didn’t think, gripping the blade in his hand even though it cut into his skin, bringing his knee up to disarm the Guard. Then, without thinking at all, he flipped the blade so his hand hit the handle, pressing it up to the Guards throat. A slight buzz ran through his veins, the power of yet again holding a sword.

‘It’s treason to disobey your Crowned Prince, Guard. I said stand down.’ Gavin glared, but took a step back, bowing. Sam looked from the man on the floor, then to the Guard, then to the hand holding the sword. Blood dripped down onto the floor, and then Sam realised he was still holding the sword, and he chucked it to the Guard.

‘Leave him to his opinion, Guard.’ Sam said, turning to go back to the house, needing desperately to forget the feel of the sword in his hand.

‘Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it, Prince! You and I both know you long to fight!’ Sam tensed, turning back. He walked to the Guard, the one that wasn’t Gavin, and held his hand out.

‘Your Sword.’ He obliged, and Sam twisted the blade, turning back to the Guard.

‘Fight.’ He snapped, and the Guard grinned. Too late, Sam realised, that it was the plan.  


He hadn’t touched a blade in three years, but, apparently, it was a skill you didn’t forget. Sam had the Guard on his back in thirty seconds, his sword gone and Sam thought for a horrible moment that he was actually going to kill him. At the last moment, the sword buried into the dirt next to his head, and Sam had to withhold his instincts telling him to kill.

‘Go back to the Palace. All of you.’ He snapped. Gavin grinned, nodding to the Guards who got the horses ready. The Prince stood, staring at the sword in his hand, knowing that when his father found out…

‘He’ll be proud of you, my Prince. About time that you fought again.’ Sam felt bile rising, handing the sword across and narrowly waiting for the horses to gallop away before he stumbled across to the hedge, throwing up whatever he had left in his stomach. A hand reached for his shoulder, Cas, he thought miserably. The entire village just watched him do that, saw the monster that Sam Winchester really was.

His body shuddered, mind blanking out as his stomach hurled again, Meg by his other side.

‘The King’s going to kill him.’ She muttered, and Castiel murmured something so low that Sam couldn’t hear. Instead, he stopped throwing up, standing and wiping his mouth. If his father killed him, so be it. It was better than Sam becoming the monster that helped him secure his empire.

‘I’m going to the Church. I’ll sleep there, tonight.’ He didn’t have to add that he knew the nightmares would come, knew they’d leave him wrecked.

‘No. You will sleep in that bed, and Meg will stay with me.’ Castiel affirmed, and the Prince sighed. Suddenly feeling a lot older than he was, he walked to the Church, wondering what his father would think.


	6. Under Arrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel parenting Sam slightly

Castiel knew, on a fundamental level, what the nightmares were about. He had never fully asked, but he knew enough of what Azazel did to assume. Sam must have seen some pretty bad things, and not once in the three years that he’d known Sam, had he ever seen the Prince hold a sword. Watching him fight, like a man that had years of training, Castiel was reminded that he was, in fact, the son of Azazel.

Castiel cleared out his room, allowing Meg to come in. He cooked actual food for Sam, and poured some ginger beer to soothe his stomach. His family sat around the table, the Winchesters with them, and Meg. She was helpfully providing stories of her potato-peeler incident.

‘The King wouldn’t actually kill his son.’ Chuck stated, although it came out as a question. Castiel thought to the beatings, to Sam crawling in the room bleeding, crying, clutching as his broken ribs. Thought of the whipping, of the humiliation.

‘There are things worse than death.’ He stated, before the door to the Cottage opened. Sam walked in, bags under his eyes, and bleeding. Castiel shouldn’t be surprised, Sam had a habit of walking into things.

‘Jesus, what did you do?’ Michael asked, and Sam looked down to his bleeding chest.

‘It isn’t bad. I’ll just…’

‘Sit.’ Castiel snapped, pointing to the chair. Sam went to protest, and Castiel felt like he could throttle the Prince.

‘Sam Elysian, sit you arse down in that chair.’ Sam shuddered, but did as he was told. Meg walked away from the families, who were watching the trio. Castiel tugged at the shirt, Sam sighed as he pulled it off. His family stayed quiet, even though many would be horrified at the scarred chest of the Prince. Most, as Castiel had found out, were from his father. Castiel admired the cut, before prepping a needle and thread.

‘Need any painkillers?’ He doubted that Sam did, he had a habit of being good with pain. Unsurprisingly, Sam shook his head. He got to work, four neat stitches in the cut. Once it was done, Sam stood, twisting to see if they held.

‘Thanks.’ He muttered, pulling the shirt back over. Castiel looked at the bruising around his throat, reaching out cautiously. Sam watched, but didn’t pull away.

‘You should have told me that it had got that bad.’ He muttered, before shoving the bowl of food into Sam’s hand. The Prince looked defeated, scooping up the food and taking a mouthful.

‘It wasn’t bad.’ He said, and Meg snorted.

‘Sam, you came in bleeding.’ She pointed out. Sam glared at her, then at Castiel.

‘Surprise, he’s the King. Nobody’s going to stop him.’ He snapped, putting the bowl down. Castiel looked at the barely touched portion, then to the man who was walking towards the spare room.

‘You need to eat!’ He called after him.

‘Screw you.’ Sam shouted back, and the door slammed. Cas sighed, looking to Meg, then to his family.

‘He isn’t always like this, just needs… He’ll be fine.’ Castiel grabbed the bowl, then the beer.

‘Let me.’ Meg said, and she disappeared up the stairs with the food and drink. Castiel washed his hands, then sat down with his family.

‘We thought them both monsters.’ Chuck murmured, and Castiel knew it to be true. Lots of people presumed the same thing, but nobody could doubt the Prince’s loyalty when they met him. Sam was kind, loving, stood up to a bad King.

‘Sam… he thinks he is. But he’s the opposite of it. Look, if… if you hear him tonight…’ Castiel thought to the nightmares, to the way he woke to find his friend curled in a ball, muttering things that Castiel wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know about.

‘The Church will take at least another week. Sam is welcome to stay, in fact, we’ll see if we can’t help him.’ Lucifer stated, and Castiel nodded. He didn’t think it would be that easy, but he didn’t say anything.

**

Castiel heard him, of course he did. Meg looked to him, wondering if they should go. When the screams stopped, Castiel shook his head. Either, Sam had settled back down, or he was awake. He never wanted comforting. That was confirmed when he heard the front door to the Cottage open, knowing Sam had walked out. He sighed, slipped out of the sheets and walked downstairs.

He was surprised to find his brother, Gabriel, in the kitchen. The dark-golden haired man turned, a mug of something steamy in his hands.

‘Go get some sleep, Cassie. I’ve got this.’ Castiel doubted that, worried that his brother was going to do something stupid, like try and get the Prince to talk. But, sleep sounded nice. He nodded twice, watching Gabriel slip out of the door, and he returned to Meg’s side. She looked at him in confusion, but he didn’t offer an explanation.

**

Three days later found them all in the clearing, having a feast. Sam seemed settled, talking to the villagers happily. Castiel found himself smiling, the town had grown to like him, to see him as a victim of Azazel rather than another monster. Sam had got the Church almost finished, they were putting the finishing touches. Castiel knew that Sam would have to return to the Palace soon, knew that the Prince was thinking about it too.

But, for now, he was content. Dean held his hand, chatting away about how he would miss him when he went back to the Palace. Meg was chatting with Michael, who seemed infatuated with her. Castiel was slightly concerned with his two other brothers, both seeming to flirt with the young Prince. When the evening came, Sam looked delighted when they told him there would be music.

Castiel danced with Dean, one of the village women dragging Sam to dance. Everyone laughed, although Sam did join in, dancing with people as the sun set and the drinks became more alcoholic. It was fun, Castiel stepped back to his family and watched as Sam twirled round with Marianne, a woman that ran the bakery. She was known for being flirtatious, but Cas didn’t think Sam would be stupid enough to do anything to… risky.

‘He looks happy.’ Bobby stated, and the families nodded. They were enjoying Sam’s company now, he’d opened up slightly, and seemed more like a normal man than a Prince. When they watched him walk to those playing the music, the Prince being handed a violin, Castiel sighed.

‘Get ready to cry.’ Sam had always had the ability to play, and what started out as an incredibly sad song, turned upbeat quickly. People clapped and cheered, but Castiel just watched the Prince play, knowing it was what he enjoyed the most.

‘He’s incredible.’ Lucifer muttered, Gabriel nodding his head in agreement. That was bad news. Castiel looked to Dean, who was seemingly thinking the same thing. Sam stopped playing half-way through the song, people booing playfully, until they saw the look on his face. Castiel heard it moments later, hooves, and turned to see the horses enter the clearing. The riders wore the royal emblem, and Castiel knew this was trouble.

‘Prince Samuel Elysian, the King requires your presence at Court immediately.’ Sam looked pretty devastated, handing the violin back.

‘Can it wait till morning?’ He asked, walking through the crowd.

‘I’m afraid not, your Highness. You’re under arrest.’ Silence.


	7. Execution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam faces a challenge.

Sam knelt in front of his father, not looking at Castiel and Meg, who were standing on the side-line. Sam had ridden back immediately, being under arrest wasn’t funny. The Prince looked to the man on the throne, who had a smug expression on his face.

‘Your punishment, Prince, is the Sword.’ Sam turned slightly, seeing a Guard draw his sword, putting it on the floor. Sam could have cried, he knew what this was, but it hadn’t happened in so long. And Castiel and Meg would see, he… he couldn’t do it.

‘If I refuse?’ He asked, and he heard Castiel suck in a breath. The King looked amused, fond almost, and a grin formed.

‘Then Mr Novak and Miss Masters are executed, and I destroy the Church in the Village of Westbrook.’ Sam nodded slowly, turning to the sword. He heard the doors open, looked to see who would come. The group of ten looked nervous, clutching swords like they were ready for a war they wouldn’t win.

‘Rebels from the outskirts. Make me proud, Prince.’ Sam picked the sword up, clearing his mind as the people ran. He twisted slightly, then began. It took very little to get back into something he wished he’d never done. People could be so stupid, these men thought they had a chance, even as Sam sliced through skin. Even as blood came through, and the men still tried to fight. Sam hated killing, hated it with such a passion. When the last one dropped his sword, dropping to his knees and pleading to the King, Sam turned.

‘Death.’ Sam hesitated, then thought back to the threat. He drove the sword forwards, right through his neck, watched the blood spurt. His sword was pulled back, and Sam just watched the man bleed out, then turned. Standing in the middle of ten bodies, he looked up to his father.

‘Father.’ He bowed, putting the sword down and putting his hands behind his back so the King wouldn’t see how badly they were shaking, how badly he wanted this all to end.

‘You’re dismissed. Your friends are safe.’ Sam bowed again, walking to the door, not looking to Castiel and Meg, though he knew they were following. Just as he opened the door, Azazel’s voice rang out,

‘Just like old times, hey son?’ He flinched at the name, slipping out. The Guards didn’t talk, staring at the bloodstained Prince as he walked to his Chambers. He didn’t try and talk to his friends, going straight to the shower. Hot water poured over his skin, but it wasn’t enough. His hands hit the tile, fists punching out, and he felt the skin crack. He kept going, again and again, then hitting his head against it, wondering if he could die like this, or at the very least, knock himself out.

Hands grabbed him, tugging him away from the tiles. He could see why, they were stained red, and Sam fought against the arms until he couldn’t hold himself up, sinking down to the floor and sobbing, hands gripping chunks of hair and tugging until he felt the pain melt into the thoughts, until something sharp pricked his neck and Sam felt his vision go blurry.

**

_‘Kill them, or be killed.’ Azazel snarled, and Sam shook his head. He couldn’t kill them, the five men were just trying to defend their village. All around, smoke billowed up, flames licking at the buildings. The men stared at Sam, respect in their eyes. The women and children were chained up, but even they looked respectful. Sam turned to his father, the anger in his eyes making Sam almost change his mind._

_‘Because of you, they die.’ Sam heard the gunfire, screamed as the women and children fell, screamed as bullets rained down. The choked cries, blood dribbling from their lips. Sam tried to move, but was forced to his knees, his hair twisted painfully._

_‘That was your fault, Sam.’ Azazel snarled, and Sam stared at the dead children, stared at the lifeless eyes. He didn’t cry out when his father twisted harder._

_‘I’ll ask you again, are you ready to kill?’ Sam looked to the men, the men that were crying, and he hoped they forgave him. He shook his head, and Azazel moved forwards._

_‘How about a dissection, then?’ Sam couldn’t remember how long he’d been screaming for, how long the pain lasted, how long these people begged for death. Sam was sure that he couldn’t live like this, couldn’t do it anymore, watching as a man’s eyes were scooped out. He hit his head to the ground, again and again, desperate._

_But no, the Guards held him, and Sam watched the last man be dragged to Sam’s lap. A knife was pressed into his hand, and Azazel guided it to his throat. The skin on his chest had been peeled, enough that Sam could see the heart, and he stared._

_‘That’s it, by boy.’ Sam pushed the knife down, felt the skin break. Sam tipped his head back, Azazel stroking hair from his face. When the Guards had left, Sam screamed, screamed until he couldn’t feel his throat._

**

Sam shot up, realising immediately he wasn’t alone. Azazel sat on the edge of his bed, the King watching him with amusement. Meg, Castiel and Hannah were in the room, seated on the couch, all of them looking terrified. Sam stared at his father, stared at him as he tried to control his breathing.

‘My poor boy, what were you dreaming about?’ He asked, reaching out. Sam flinched, remembering the look of glee.

‘Tell me.’ Azazel stated, moving forward like a cat. Sam held still, then took a breath. It was no different from any other story, tell it based on fact.

‘The… the village on the edge of the Amarn Province. The… women and children…’ He cut off, his eyes squeezing shut. Azazel hummed slightly, moving so that he sat by Sam’s side, stroking sweaty hair from his face.

‘Ah, I remember. You refused an order, Sam. You know you needed to be punished.’ Sam shut his eyes, ignoring his father’s fingers as he remembered the women and children screaming.

‘They died. You shot 23 women and children because I wouldn’t kill five men.’ Sam said, staring at his father, praying that he understood. Azazel chuckled, cupping his cheek.

‘You’re a warrior, Sam. You have to understand that, become the man you’re supposed to be.’ Sam stared into the yellow eyes, stared and wished that he had some sort of leverage.

‘Eve wouldn’t want this.’ Sam felt the sting of the slap, felt his father move to straddle him, heard Castiel go to reach for him and Hannah grab him. Felt his father latch his fingers around Sam’s throat, and he held still.

‘Respect, boy. Or I’ll kill them all.’ Sam didn’t want to submit, but he did, gasping a yes and Azazel looked pleased.

‘Training at five tomorrow. We’re going Hunting.’ The King said, walking across to the door.

‘For what?’ Sam asked, rubbing his throat.

‘People.’ Azazel said with a grin, and Sam looked away. He didn’t speak to him, not when the door shut, and he looked to Hannah.

‘Get out.’ Sam stated, and Hannah went to argue, but she did. Meg followed, and Castiel hesitated.

‘This isn’t you, Sam.’

‘Go to the Village. Take Meg. Don’t… don’t come back here, Cas. I can’t protect you.’ Sam said, feeling tears. His friend looked just as bad. Sam moved to him, and the two hugged, Sam shuddering.

‘I’ll figure it out. Take the stuff in the security box, go to the Village. I’ll come for you once I’ve figured it out.’ Castiel stepped back, and Sam nodded. The Prince stood tall, elegant, and dismissed his last friend.


	8. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six Months later. The Prince's life now

Six Months Later

Although Sam Elysian did not get to see the looks of joy, he knew they would be happy. Working hard for the six months he’d been separated from his friends, he had earned them and their families a place at Court. The Winchester and Novak families would be escorted to the Palace, would live on the outskirts of the Court. Sam wasn’t allowed to visit them, not until it was official, so he had to wait.

‘Lydia, you can leave that.’ He muttered, watching the maid scrub the fireplace. She stood, adjusted her dress, then bobbed a curtsey. He didn’t stop her, just turned to the door and waited for the summoning. He was dressed as a Royal Prince should, in his formal gown, with his sword resting in his belt. The door opened, a Guard walking in and bowing low. Sam checked the collar of his shirt, a smile forming when he saw the star symbol.

Six months had given Sam time to plot. Plotting against the King was difficult, spreading the word that the Prince, when King, would rule over the people fairly, would have Councils for each district, would not plunder and kill, was difficult. People in the Palace had turned loyalties after the past six months, seeing how the King acted, and more than ever wished for him to die.

‘Your Highness, the King requests your presence in the Throne Room.’ Meaning the families were here. Good. Sam nodded, dismissing the Guard. He hadn’t seen Cas and Meg in six months, he missed them dearly, and could do with them by his side. Especially now that the King had openly taken a Mistress, Abaddon, who was a bitch. He walked down the corridors, Lydia scuttling behind him. The throne room was the same, he walked past the two families he had brought to the Palace, keeping his head high. Lydia stopped, dropping to a curtsey, and Sam went to the steps. Bowing low, Sam kept his eyes of the red-headed Mistress, draped across the King like a scarf.

‘Rise.’ He did so, walking to his place at his father’s side. He didn’t look to his friends, just kept a hand resting on the handle of the sword.

‘You have been honoured with homes, free of charge. Exempt from taxes, and under the loyalty of the Prince, and therefore me.’ Sam watched Abaddon walk across to him, reaching to kiss his cheek. He held perfectly still, even when her hand trailed down the front of his shirt.

‘The Priest has been given the royal chapel, although I am not a religious man myself. Too much bloodshed to believe in a God.’ He laughed, the families didn’t, so Sam did. The King looked pleased, which meant Sam had enough favour to grip Abaddon’s hand before it skirted lower than his shirt. She giggled, returning to the King’s side.

‘The Prince will show you to your quarters. Sam, in my room tonight.’ He bowed low, before walking away from his father, and focusing on Castiel. As soon as the doors were shut, and they were safe, he pulled the man in for a hug.

‘I missed you.’ Castiel muttered, hugging him back. Meg came next, and Sam beamed at the two of them.

‘I had to get you out of the Provinces before something goes wrong. Come on, I’ll show you to your houses.’ He walked by Castiel’s side, listening to the stories of the Village. Guards bowed low as Sam walked past, evidently some were loyal to him, but not all. He left the Winchesters at their home, then the Novaks, and went to the Chapel.

‘Are you religious?’ Bobby inquired as Sam walked in, unbuckling the sword and leaving it at the door. Sam sighed, looking to the cross that hung over the altar. He sat down in one of the pews, Bobby walking forwards and staring at him.

‘I want to believe, but if he is real, then how does he let this happen to people? How does he let Azazel rule?’ Bobby knew it was treason to speak the words, looking around even though the place was empty. He sighed, sitting next to him, taking his hands.

‘Son, maybe he knows that someone is going to stop him.’ The Prince sighed, not sure if he honestly could kill his own father. Usurping the throne, and with the knowledge that he was a kin-slayer? Sam listened to the Priest, until he heard the doors open. Abaddon, unsurprisingly.

‘Prince, your father wishes to see you.’ He thanked Bobby, gripping his sword and reattaching it, Abaddon smiling sweetly at him. He ignored her in favour of walking out of the Chapel and in the direction of his father’s chambers.

**

The world was a little blurry, Sam stumbling slightly as he went to try and get to his father. The King had summoned both of the families, to welcome them officially with a feast, and Sam knew it was a test. His father, as he had been doing for almost six months, had managed to drug Sam again. Usually, the Prince would just return to his chambers, but he didn’t trust his father not to do something.

‘I did not think you’d be joining us.’ The King remarked as he stumbled in, biting his tongue to stop rude words flowing out.

‘I wouldn’t miss it.’ He snapped back, walking to his chair. Abaddon actually purred, sitting next to him, and running a hand up his arm. Sam pushed back the haze.

Dinner was awkward. The families were evidently worried for Sam, who wasn’t eating at all.

‘Drink this.’ The King stated, offering a glass of something that was tinted just off-clear. It was probably drugged, probably because he was fighting this dosage so much. He went to decline, but Abaddon took the glass, turning to raise it to his lips. He accepted, the cool liquid clearing the haze for a moment, before the world went back to spinning. Her hand rested on his thigh, sliding slightly higher than could ever be considered appropriate.

‘Father…’ He began, hoping to get the woman off of him, but the King just chuckled.

‘Enjoy her, she’s very skilled.’ The King laughed again, standing up. The table bowed, before Azazel left the room. As soon as he was gone, Sam tugged the hand off his thigh. Abaddon pouted, leaning in for his neck, and he was genuinely tempted to hit her. But, that wasn’t appropriate. Instead, his wobbly feet allowed him to stand, and he walked out of the room with very little dignity.

**

The dreams were bad. Even worse when he woke to Abaddon in his bed, body wrapped only in a silk robe. He had the anecdote to the drug, so was sober enough to shove the woman off him, calling for the Guards. She was dragged away, Sam watching as Lydia came running in to see if he needed assistance. Sam stared at the sweat stained sheets, then nodded.

‘New sheets. I’m going for a walk.’

The Palace was dark, and he didn’t expect to run into anyone, least of all Castiel’s brother. Gabriel squeaked as Sam literally ran into him, jumping back and apologising.

‘Sorry, I didn’t see you there, Prince Moose.’ Sam smirked slightly, the Novak was actually quite funny.

‘It’s fine. I should have been watching out for short pixies running around.’ Gabriel pouted, and Sam thought it was actually quite a good look on the man, before he offered to make them both some hot cocoa. Having done it back when Sam was in the Village, he agreed, and the two went back to the Novak house. Nobody else was up, so the two settled to talk together.

‘Why don’t you stand up to him?’ Gabriel asked, and they both knew who he was talking about. Sam shuddered slightly at the thought of doing so, and the Novak seemed to understand.

‘What about your mother? What was she like?’ Sam talked with the Novak until morning, until Castiel and Dean came down the stairs, looking suspiciously at the two of them.

‘Did you know, Moose here hasn’t slept with anyone?’ Gabriel stated, Sam throwing a pillow at him. The Novak squeaked, throwing a pillow back at him. Castiel sighed, muttering something about how there were now two annoying people, and Sam laughed. Gabriel lunged with another pillow, Sam doing the same, as the two started fighting. It was the first time he’d laughed freely in so long, he almost forgot everything going on outside.

‘Prince.’ Gabriel pulled away from throttling him, Sam standing to see a Guard in the doorway. Had it been one of his father’s, he would have been flogged. Seeing the star on his shoulder made Sam relax.

‘Free space, you can talk.’ He stated, gesturing to the growing crowd of Novaks in the household.

‘The King is going on Progress in three days. He has suggested that the Lady Abaddon be moved to your quarters for the time.’ That was half good, half bad news. On one hand, his father wouldn’t be here. On the other hand, Abaddon would be.

‘It gives me time to think.’ The Prince conceded, and the Guard nodded.

‘If you are to move against your father, this will be the perfect time to plot.’ Sam nodded again, putting the pillows back on the couches. He hadn’t explicitly told his friends of his plans to usurp his father.

‘Lady Abaddon needs to go. What offence is punishable?’ He looked to the Guard, who grinned.

‘Sire, there is news that may be in your favour. The King had been looking at a suitable match for yourself, an heiress in the North.’ Sam sighed, not really thinking that was going to help.

‘If the Lady Abaddon was to suggest that such a marriage would be an offence…’ The Guard trailed off, and Sam got the idea. If she spoke against it, imprisonment would work, and Sam could get going with reordering the Court.

‘How many rebels do we have?’ He asked, and the Guard smiled.

‘More than enough. Most Provinces will rise in your favour, as long as you support the pledge to marry a common-born.’ He nodded, that was alright. He could do that, just pick a common-born person who would think marrying him wasn’t an awful thing.

‘Then we move with the plan.’ Sam walked to the door, then stopped.

‘Where is the King now?’

‘In his Chambers. He’s waiting for you and the Lady Abaddon.’ Sam shuddered, knowing what that meant, and thanked the Guard. The Prince left the room, knowing eventually his plan would work.


	9. Heritage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prince finds out something bad, or good, depending on viewpoint.

Castiel sat next to Dean, hands entwined, watching the red-headed bitch crawl onto Sam’s lap. Cas knew that Sam couldn’t really do anything, not with the King sitting beside them, and it wasn’t the first time Castiel wondered what exactly had happened over the past six months. The families, both his and Deans, were willing to support the Prince in becoming King. It was better than this, watching the King allow his Mistress to climb across him.

He was drugged. It had been obvious on the first night, it was clearer now. Sam’s pupils were dilated, movements slurred. The King kept plying him with more drink, and Abaddon was getting friendly on his lap. He couldn’t really do anything, nor could Meg, even though both wanted to rip her skanky hands off of Sam.

‘I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ve decided to leave Abaddon with you, I’m sure she’ll keep you company.’ At the mention of her name, the red-head straddled Sam, head ducking to his neck. In all fairness, for someone that, as far as Castiel knew, had never been with anyone, Sam held off remarkably well. The King looked pleased with the show, sipping his wine carefully.

‘You can come to my chambers later, Abaddon.’ She rose her head away from Sam’s neck, a dark bruise on his throat. She nodded happily, like a pet stuck between two masters.

‘You too, Sam.’ That was the concerning part, but Sam didn’t flinch, bowing his head in the direction of the King. Dean’s hand tightened around Castiel’s, and they watched the scene.

**

The house had everyone in it, all talking, all thinking about how if this failed, execution was the result. If Sam didn’t make it to the throne, then they’d all die. A knock at the door sounded, the Guard from this morning coming in, a very hesitant look on his face.

‘Mr Novak, it’s the Prince. He’s… not well.’ Castiel stood up, looking across to Meg, who was up as well. Dean stood, as did Gabriel and John. The Guard looked to all of them, evidently unsure of taking five people across to the Prince’s Chambers.

‘I was trained in medicine.’ John stated, and the Guard nodded. He walked in silence, Castiel and the others following. When they reached the Prince’s chambers, Castiel wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Whatever it could have been, it wasn’t what he saw. Sam was sitting in the middle of the room, furniture strewn across and broken. He had a dark bruise over his eye, a cut lip, and he could see blood under his shirt.

‘Sam.’ He rose his head, those desperate eyes finding Castiel’s. He didn’t ask, just led the Prince to the bed. Tugging at the shirt, he removed it from his skin. Mottled bruising over the ribs, a shallow cut just below them that was undoubtedly made by a boot. Castiel momentarily got lost staring at what appeared to be rope burns around his neck, faded, and he made a note to ask.

‘Right, it isn’t deep. I need to make sure your ribs aren’t broken.’ John came beside him, prodding gently. If it hurt, Sam gave no indication of it.

‘Not broken, but you might have one fractured.’ John stated, and Castiel tested as well. Coming to the same conclusion, he got bandages to wrap the ribs up. The Prince stayed still, waiting until they were done, before Castiel moved to clean the cut lip.

‘What happened?’ He asked softly, Meg coming to his side with ice for the bruising on his ribs.

‘Eve.’ He muttered, looking awfully pale. Castiel looked down, waiting for him to explain.

‘She… she isn’t my mother.’ Castiel checked there was nobody else in the room, even though the King had never officially married Eve, saying that she wasn’t the mother of the Prince would be… dangerous.

‘Do you know who is?’ Castiel inquired, and for the smallest of moments, he hoped she was alive. Sam could do with a mother.

‘A woman from one of the villages. He fell in love, got her pregnant, then found out she was married. When the baby… when I was born, he had her killed.’ That wasn’t good. That was really not very good. Castiel kept treating the cut, watching Sam carefully.

‘Do you know her name?’ Sam nodded, but didn’t offer it. Castiel didn’t push, continuing to deal with the injuries before stepping back.

‘Right, do you need one of us to stay?’ Castiel wished he would say yes, would admit that he needed help, but the Prince declined. Castiel hated leaving him, hated what the King was doing to his son. But he couldn’t complain, he had to leave him, and hoped that Sam would be successful.

**

Sam lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. His mother, his real mother, had been married. Had already got a son, a husband. Sam had got her killed, had made Azazel mad. Tonight, seeing the picture of the beautiful blonde woman who looked so perfect, he wished she was alive. He wished that he could speak to her, to make her see that he was sorry for doing this to her.

The cuts and bruises weren’t enough to make up for the pain in his heart. Sam stood, ignoring the burn of his ribs, and decided to go to the Novak household. He wasn’t being fair to Cas and Meg, to any of them. He wasn’t being fair to them. The walk was painful, Guards giving him looks as he hobbled to the house. He knocked, despite being a Prince, and it was opened by Gabriel.

‘You should be resting.’ He scolded, taking one of Sam’s arms and helping him in to the house. Castiel came quickly, settling by his side, Dean on the couch next to him. They talked casually, even though Sam wanted to explain everything he knew, everything he planned.

‘Look.’ Castiel showed him a photo, a pretty bad quality one, but he could see a woman with dark brown hair, a relatively sharp face.

‘This is my mom, Naomi. She disappeared thirteen years ago.’ Sam shuffled forwards, taking the photo in his hands and staring. The face seemed familiar, which couldn’t be a good thing, so he handed it back. If Sam had met her, it would mean that she was one of the people Azazel had killed. How Castiel could bear to know the man that killed his mom was beyond Sam’s imagination.

‘This is my Mom.’ Dean added, pulling a photo out. Sam took it, then felt his heart stop. A beautiful woman, bright blonde hair, blue eyes. Sam turned the photo over, saw the name, and felt his heart clench. He looked up, to John, who was staring at him like he already knew. Sam recognised the woman in the picture, the same woman that he’d been shown by Azazel, and his heart felt fit to burst.

Azazel knew. He had to, and he’d brought them to Court? Why? What was his plan? Sam stood sharply, about to warn them to get the Hell out of the Court, when the door to the House opened. Azazel let himself in, and Sam wished he had his sword. Wished he had anything to prevent the conflict. Castiel was already moving to the back of the House, taking the others with him, as Sam stood between them.

‘You just couldn’t leave it alone.’ He stated, and Sam wished he had never seen the photo of Mary, wished he’d never found out that his Mom wasn’t Eve.

‘I can’t let the half-brother of a Crowned Prince run around the Palace.’ Azazel reached to the sword clipped to his belt, and John had moved in front of Dean, and Dean had figured it out and they would never want to see Sam again now that they knew he’d killed Dean’s mother. Sam felt the sword touch his chest, warning him to move out of the way. Naturally, he should. He should move, should not stand in the way of a very sharp sword.

‘Nobody knows that Dean’s related to me in any way. Nobody but the people in the room, who are loyal to you.’ Sam tried, feeling the sword breach cloth, felt blood dribble down to the floor. He swayed slightly, but didn’t move out of the way.

‘And if they tell?’ He inquired, and Sam forced his heart to stop beating so fast.

‘Then have them executed as traitors.’ He stated nonchalantly, as if the thought didn’t make his stomach turn. Azazel lowered the sword, gave a brief nod.

‘I expect you to keep a distance from them.’ He stated, and Sam nodded. Like he was do anything else. Staying anywhere near his half-brother would make the entire situation worse. Azazel pointed to the door, like he was asking Sam to leave, and the Prince hesitated.

‘Please, Kings first.’ Sam tried, and Azazel chuckled. The yellow-eyed man walked to the door, Sam close behind, not looking back as he followed him. Before they could exit, he was pushed round, Azazel’s sword against his throat. He watched Castiel step forward, but he didn’t do anything, the King keeping the blade tight to skin, tight enough to draw blood.

‘One wrong step, Prince.’ Azazel warned, then dropped the blade. Sam coughed, reaching to find his neck sticky, but he didn’t complain. He was a Prince, and a Prince did not complain.


	10. From bad, to worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically smut. The first bit can be read without it, but once the kissing starts, you can skip if wanted :)

Sam was mildly drunk, in his room, singing. The King was gone, and Abaddon was thankfully occupied elsewhere, and Sam had time to be himself. He’d spent the day riding with Gabriel, the only one of the group who didn’t bring up the fact that he was related to Dean. If that wasn’t bad enough, the whole half-brother thing now meant that Dean was seeing him differently. He’d always wanted a little brother, had told Sam that much, and all the Prince could think about was what his brother would think of him when he found out what Sam had done.

Reading in the library, swimming in the pool. Walking through the gardens. Things he did usually with fear, knowing people would be following him. Now, he did it freely, striding through the open spaces with liberation. Of course, Sam Elysian knew things could not be good forever. The drinks he had shared with Gabriel had turned both of them tipsy, and now the man asked the dreaded question.

‘Why don’t you talk to Dean?’ If anyone saw Sam doing that, he would be in trouble with Azazel. Why couldn’t they see that Azazel was a madman? Why couldn’t they see what he would do? They seemed to think, although he was evil, that he could be reasoned with. Sam knew the truth, that there was no stopping him.

‘You don’t understand.’ He muttered, draining the bottle as he heard the screams inside his head, the people he couldn’t save from his father’s wrath. Gabriel looked frustrated, an angry face and whiskey-eyes burning.

‘Then TELL ME!’ He shouted, and Sam was glad the door was locked. He rounded on Gabriel, dropping the bottle as he gripped him by the shirt, and genuinely considered hitting him. The Novak sneered, a knowing look on his face.

‘That’s right, you pretend to be this monster, when you’re just a man hiding in the shadows.’ He pushed him back to the wall, Gabriel actually having the audacity to look amused. Sam couldn’t hurt him, he knew that, but it just proved Gabriel’s point. Sam was a man hiding behind his father, hoping not to induce his anger.

‘Show me you, Sam. The real you.’ Gabriel stated, fingers gripping the edge of his shirt. Sam didn’t know what he was doing, one moment he was so angry, ready to prove how well he could be a warrior, and the next, he was kissing the smaller man. Gabriel tugged him closer, gripping his clothing and spinning them so it was Sam pressed to the wall, Gabriel in charge. The Prince didn’t stop him as they tumbled to the bed, tearing the shirt that was covering his torso, until they were half-naked and diving onto cushions.

Gabriel’s mouth nipped along his jawline, hands tweaking at his nipples, until his mouth lowered. Sam groaned, hands wrapping into the man’s hair as he sucked and bit and bruised his way down, being careful to avoid the bruising that was already healing around his ribs. The Prince didn’t stop the man as he undid the belt buckle, although he did tug him back up and return the favour. His hands fumbled with the fabric, ripping it from skin and revealing the smaller man’s erection, which was not small. Sam felt nerves flutter through, staring with anticipation, but gripped the man’s hips and tugged.

When Gabriel pressed flush against him, Sam arched back, dying for friction. The man laughed, sucking a dark bruise onto the skin of his neck as he rutted his hips, Sam crying out. He felt ridiculously overpowered, but he loved it, loved how Gabriel’s hands roamed freely. When his lips moved down, Sam’s head arched back, and he revelled in the feeling of Gabriel’s mouth. Not wanting to thrust, he gripped the sheets as the man dipped his hand lower, cupping his already tightening balls. Gabriel was doing things with his mouth that Sam couldn’t even describe, the tight wet heat around his cock had taken over any brain cells still working, and all Sam could think about was chasing that feeling.

Sam’s hand fumbled with the draw, finding the lube that he kept stashed for lonely nights, and Gabriel grinned wickedly. The sight of him between his thighs was too much, especially when a finger pushed into him, and he came hard. The suction didn’t stop, Gabriel swallowing him down before turning the Prince over. A pillow was shoved under his stomach, arching him up enough for a slicked finger to prod at his entrance. Oversensitivity stopped the stretch from hurting, especially with Gabriel’s lips marking all over his back, and Sam couldn’t care less about the vulnerability of the situation.

‘So good for me, Prince.’ Gabriel muttered, and Sam keened at the praise, tilting his head to the side. The Novak chuckled, slipping a second finger in. It burnt slightly, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle, and when Gabriel’s fingers curled, Sam pushed back onto his fingers desperately.

‘C’mon, Samshine. Fuck yourself on my fingers.’ The Prince, beyond feeling embarrassed, did exactly as asked. Growing heat between his thighs made his head swim, getting hard quicker than he thought possible, especially when fingers brushed back across that spot. When Gabriel pulled back, Sam whined helplessly, and Gabriel placed a hand on his shoulder.

‘Getting there, baby.’ He assured, before Sam felt something that was definitely not fingers pressing against him. Gabriel paused, as if sensing Sam tense, but the Prince was not shying away from this.

‘Please, Gabriel. Please.’ The burn was delicious, the feeling of being stretched deliciously open. Giving him a moment to adjust, Gabriel started with short, steady thrusts. Sam gasped, fingers tangling into the sheets as he lifted his back up to meet him, keeping his head in the pillows. Gabriel grunted, fingers tightening around his hips as he fucked him down into the mattress. Sam felt the same building sensation, chasing his high as he pushed back against the pounding hips behind him.

It was beyond incredible. The sweet sensation of being filled, the way that Gabriel reached for his hair, tugging it back so his head twisted to look at the mirror in the room, and Sam tightened without realising. It was Gabriel’s cry that told him he’d done so, Gabriel looking smug as he kept his hips thrusting, deepening the strokes as Sam pushed back, watching them move together in the mirror. It was wrong, so very wrong, the sight of Gabriel calm and collected, Sam utterly wrecked under him. It was enough that Sam could feel his stomach tighten, could feel the muscles grip around Gabriel.

‘Be a good boy, cum for me.’ He demanded, and Sam did just that, feeling his head spin as Gabriel’s thrusts became erratic, heat pooling into his ass. Sam sunk down, taking Gabriel with him, ignoring the wet patch caused by him. Gabriel reached for him, wrapped an arm around him, and Sam relaxed back. Tiredness quickly took over the feeling of euphoria, and he didn’t stop to think, just let himself drift to sleep.


	11. The End of Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has to move past what happened last night.

Was there a precedent for this? Sam didn’t know what he was supposed to do, trying desperately to ignore the throbbing in his ass, staring down at the sleeping Novak. Oh, Lord, if his father found out… Sam stood silently, crossing to the shower, then hesitating. Instead of showering, like he really should, Sam dressed silently, leaving a pile of clothes for Gabriel, and a note saying he could use the shower.

His door was locked, and outside was a plate with breakfast on it. He put it next to the note, hoping Gabriel would get the hint, and slipped out of the room. He wasn’t running, per say, just needing to forget how right it had felt. His head was swimming slightly from the alcohol, and he really hoped Gabriel hadn’t been that drunk. Actually, if he was so drunk that he forgot, that would be useful.

He ran into Lydia on his walk, dismissing her for the day, and reached his father’s Chambers. The door was unlocked, so he shut it behind him. Heading straight for the showers, enjoying the way the steam rose as he cleaned himself off, he gasped when he saw Abaddon perched on the sink.

‘Oh please, don’t stop on my behalf.’ She purred, trailing her eyes down. Sam ignored her, lathering up his hair and standing back under the spray, before she smirked.

‘See, you and I will go down together.’ She stated happily, and Sam almost dropped the bottle. He spun, grabbing a towel, and stepped out from under the spray. Wrapping it around his waist, he walked closer to her, raising an eyebrow.

‘What do you mean?’ He asked, and then he saw the bruising round her throat. He saw her eyes, filled with tears and fear, staring. The smile wasn’t one of malice, it was one of desperation, like she knew her fate had been sealed.

‘A Guard caught me sleeping with one of the boys in Kitchen. Threatened to tell you, and found the noises from your room were enough to convince him that the King needed to know. A riding party has gone.’ Sam didn’t react, even though he knew how bad this situation was. Didn’t react, even though both of them knew what it meant. Abaddon would die, without a doubt. Sam, well, some things were worse than death.

‘Then, how about a drink?’ Sam asked, a smile on his face. Calmness washed over, the Guard would reach his father, and he had no way of stopping it. In fact, Sam decided that he didn’t want to. That, when the confrontation came, he would bow down to his father no longer. Abaddon laughed, her hands shaking only the tiniest bit.

‘I think that would be brilliant, Samuel.’ He grinned, grabbing one of his father’s robes and wrapping it around him. She was wearing a silk gown, and he offered out his arm. The Guards, if they thought it strange, didn’t say anything as they went to the main lounge. Nobody would use it, not while the King was gone, so Abaddon headed across to the bar. Sam turned to the Guard, one that was on his side, and smiled slightly.

‘My father has grounds to kill me, I think the confrontation will be soon.’ The Guard looked worried, they weren’t prepared enough, but Sam didn’t think too hard on it. Instead, he walked behind the bar.

‘What will it be, Lady Abaddon?’ He inquired, his face perfectly calm.

‘The prettiest thing you can make, Prince Samuel.’ He chuckled, and that was how the two remained. Telling stories about how Abaddon had grown up with a father who worked in the mining pits, a mother that had been murdered by Azazel’s men when they took over the outskirts. How Azazel had seen her, spared her, in return for her services. Sam, in return, told her about his life growing up. Admitted to Dean being his half-brother, admitted to sleeping with Gabriel. She chuckled, tipping their sixth cocktail’s together, the glass clinking.

‘To a happy last day.’ He toasted to that, before a Guard walked in, looking unsure of how to approach.

‘Your Highness, I thought you should know. The Novak and Winchester families have been summoned to the Village of Westbrook. Your father is there. Guards are coming for Lady Abaddon.’ Ah, a Guard on his side. He looked across to Abaddon, who smiled sadly. They finished their drinks, Sam draining his and standing.

‘I’ll try.’ He muttered, pulling the woman close and clasping her hands. Tears were already trailing down her cheeks, and Sam pulled her in for a hug. She his age, twenty-seven, yet had no chance of surviving. Sam knew that, she knew that, and they hugged like it was the final thing they would do. When the Guards entered the room, Abaddon went willingly, and he watched the red-headed woman walk out. Sam turned to the empty glasses, then stared to the Guard that was still in the room.

‘Have someone tack up my horse. Battle gear, please.’ Sam walked to his room, and looked at the Chambers. Stripping the clothing he was wearing, looking to the sheets where he had spent last night with Gabriel, he realised that he was poison. Everything he touched broke, everything he touched was ruined. Now, he would be fighting for all of them.

He buckled his own clothing, his own armour, and stood. The last thing he reached for was his sword, the sword he had used to slay rebels that stood in the way of his father. He slid it into its sheath, before looking in the mirror. Once more, one last time. Maybe this would make up for the screaming voices in his nightmares, he thought. Maybe this was his redemption, to try and stop the man that would kill everyone.

The Guards still in the Palace were his. They watched, knowing he was going to fight a war that he possibly couldn’t win, not when his father had his own army by his side. An army Sam had seen fight, had seen crush entire Provinces.

‘If I return, it will be as King. It is unlikely, and so therefore, I wish you best of luck.’ He stated aloud to the Guards gathered in the clearing, and each dropped to their knees like he was already crowned. Sam didn’t expect to be King, hell, he’d never even been that good at being a Prince. He had the right mind, had the right training, but he couldn’t harm people like his father could. Didn’t have that ruthless streak.

‘May God bless you, your Highness.’ The Guard, Crowley, stated. Loyal, always. The star on his collarbone never more prominent.

‘I hope he’s listening.’ Sam returned, staring at Thunder, the horse looking to him. He wished he didn’t have to drag him into this, the horse would watch its Master fall, but Sam mounted anyway. To Westbrook, to his best friends, to his half-brother, to his lover, to the woman stuck like he, and to his father. To, unfortunately, his most likely death.


	12. Faith in God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is stuck in the Village. Sam comes.

Castiel rose his head, blood sticking to the side, and looked to the town. In chains, all of them. Apparently, according to Azazel, who marched around in the clearing like he was God himself, he had been planning this for a while. He just needed leverage. Leverage, which had come when he had found out that Sam had slept with someone. Nobody knew who, although Castiel was very concerned that his brother hadn’t returned home two nights before.

It was early morning when the horses came in, and the Guards dismounted. There were fifty in the Village, fifty people that had dragged everyone from their homes. This hadn’t happened to the inner Provinces, although everyone had heard what happened to the rebellious outskirts. Castiel watched someone be pulled from the horse, a woman, Abaddon. She looked awful, silk robe stained with blood, mascara dribbling down her bloodshot eyes. Her face was bruised, lips swollen, hair messy.

‘Oh, my love.’ Azazel purred, stroking down the side of her face. Castiel watched her shake, before the King nodded to a Guard and he hauled her to the ground, chaining her alongside the other women and children. Meg, he thought, was lucky to be with them. The families had been brought straight from the Palace, and the King looked down at them, focusing on Dean.

‘I always knew, I just had to wait. Just needed Sam to meet you. It’s a shame, you look like her, you know.’ Dean snarled, and Castiel wished he had listened to Sam. It was stupid, but, for some reason, he had never quite believed the stories he had heard about the mad King and his followers. Azazel was human, no human could be quite this insane.

‘Oh shut up!’ He snarled at a woman who was sobbing loudly, tears and snot running down her face as she hiccupped back the sounds. Castiel wanted to tell her she should be quiet, that he didn’t think the King was kidding. He was shocked, honestly shocked, when the bang sounded. The woman slumped, pulling hard on the chains she was shackled to. The women next to her screamed, all of them trying to scramble away, but their movements just dragged the lifeless body with them.

Guns. They weren’t used in the army, but Azazel had one tucked into his belt, and Castiel knew this was bad. Knew they weren’t getting out of this alive.

‘What did he say?’ The King asked, looking down to Abaddon, who rose her head steadily.

‘He’s coming. He’s coming for you.’ She laughed manically, and he stamped down hard on her hand that was in the dirt, hard enough that Castiel heard the bones shatter. She screamed, and he heard Bobby praying, praying for a saviour. Praying for someone to stop the mad-King.

It was relentless. The Mad-King walked around the clearing, raiding their houses, taking their property like it did not matter that it belonged to them. Like they wouldn’t be alive to need it. Castiel watched the Guards ogle the women, was thankful that Meg was with them, next to Michael, who would die before letting someone hurt her. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure that was what was going to happen. Death, an inevitable.

‘It was me.’ Gabriel murmured quietly to Castiel, but Dean heard as well, both staring at him. They had to be quiet, if Azazel found out… Gabriel looked awful, worse than the others, like the guilt was eating him up.

‘I was so stupid, Sam was drunk, I was drunk…’ He trailed off, and Castiel shuffled closer in a sign of solidarity. He didn’t care, didn’t care that Gabriel had done it. He knew his brother had been eyeing up Sam, had warned him, but Gabriel never listened. It was just a shame, because they were going to die now.

‘It isn’t just a thing. I do… like him.’ Castiel heard it, the silent promise that Gabriel loved the Prince, even if he couldn’t say the words aloud. He had known, deep down, already. Known, watching the two dancing at the fete all those months ago. Known, when Sam wrote to him during his six months as well as Castiel. Known, when they had gone out riding, the two looking happy. Known, when he had seen them on the couch, drinking hot cocoa.

The Mad-King approached Abaddon yet again, tracing a finger down the silk robe. He looked amused, speaking loudly so people could hear.

‘Was he worth it? A common-born lover?’ Abaddon just stared at him, like she didn’t know how to answer that without ruining her chances. ‘A kitchen boy, worth nothing? Worth less than the very gown protecting you?’ She sobbed, actually sobbed, red hair clinging to her face. Azazel stood slowly, stroking her head as if in some sick way he still cared.

‘It’s alright, all good things come to an end. You, this Village, Eve… Mary.’ He looked across to Dean, who had tensed up next to Castiel. The Novak moved his chains so he could brush his fingers across his boyfriend’s, assuring him, preventing him from speaking out.

He seemed to bore of the taunt, reaching for his sword, and Castiel realised he was actually going to kill her. That was until hooves sounded, and a horse cantered into the clearing, the Prince in full attire on his back. He slid off gently, hand gripping the sword.

‘Father.’ He stated, eyes drifting to Abaddon.

‘I see you got my message.’ Azazel gestured to the chained families, and Sam didn’t bother looking, keeping his eyes trained on the King.

‘I did.’ Sam answered, before his eyes moved back to Abaddon.

‘Let her go, father.’ She smiled up at him, and he didn’t know what had changed between them, but it was obvious that they were now both against Azazel.

‘I don’t think I will, Sam. You haven’t proved your loyalty.’ Azazel coaxed, and Sam snorted with amusement. The King looked momentarily baffled, before his face hardened. Anger, maybe.

‘I’m not loyal. Not to you, not anymore.’ Sam stated, and Azazel nodded. Guards moved behind Castiel, and he felt a sword pressed against his neck. Dean, Gabriel, everyone in the row in fact, was in a similar situation. Sam didn’t look surprised, held his ground as Azazel moved forwards. He took the gun from his belt, pressed it down into Sam’s hand, and smiled.

‘I’m going to give you a choice. You either shoot Abaddon, or…’ He turned, admiring the people, and pointed to Lissa.

‘Or the girl. That, or your friends get stabbed through the neck. Including your half-brother.’ Sam’s eyes flitted across, before he clicked the gun, and rose it to point at Azazel. The King smirked, before it drifted to Abaddon, then across to Lissa.

‘Please, Sam. Please, you said we were on the same side.’ Abaddon begged, and the gunshot rang out, and a perfect hole formed in her head. Sam lowered the gun, face calm.

‘Release them.’ He stated simply, and Azazel just laughed.

‘There was only one bullet, Sam.’ Sam drew his sword, and stared at the King.

‘If you aren’t afraid, then you’ll fight me.’ Sam urged, and the King looked amused. Azazel did the same, drawing his sword and nodding to the Guards. They stepped back, the swords no longer at their throats. Castiel was staring at Sam, who had just threatened the man that could kill entire nations with his sword.

‘Even if you win, they’ll never follow you.’ Azazel said with a laugh, gesturing to the Guards. Sam looked thoughtful, then rested his sword. He fished something out of his pocket, a piece of fabric.

‘No, because they believe you are their God. I’m going to prove them wrong.’ Castiel watched in horror as the Prince reached up, wrapping the fabric around his head, tightening it over his eyes. Azazel, momentarily, looked stumped.

‘This is suicide.’ Azazel said, the Guards shifting uncomfortably.

‘A Priest once asked me if I believed in God. If there is one, then I won’t lose.’ Sam stated, his sword back in hand. Castiel looked to Bobby, who looked horrified, looked to the Guards, who looked the same. Azazel shrugged.

‘Very well. I’ll find a new heir.’


	13. Hell, or Heaven?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight.

When Sam had been little, he had not been alone. Azazel had, to only the Court’s knowledge, a brother. His name was Asmodeus, and he was no better than the King. He had been the one to teach Sam how to fight, the four year old struggling to lift the sword. By the age of six, Sam was swinging it like his life depended on it. By eleven, he killed his first man, a rebel brought into the training room. Asmodeus had trained him, had beaten him into shape.

At thirteen, he had declared that, one day, Sam would need to be able to fight using just his senses. He had been blindfolded, and had earplugs in his ears. He had been cut, bruised and stabbed so many times. Then, one day, he had learnt to pick up on the vibrations. One day, the ear plugs were removed, and Sam started to learn just by sound. Asmodeus had told him that the key to winning when you could not see was faith.

When Sam challenged Azazel, he had faith. Faith in God, faith that he could do this. He was repenting for his sins. The world went black, his fingers tensed around the handhold of the sword. He heard the first swing of the Sword, remembered training with his father when he was younger, remembered how he had watched Azazel kill Asmodeus without even thinking about it. It was the only time Sam actually thought his father cared, when he walked in and saw Asmodeus pinning Sam to the floor, and Sam now knew that his Uncle wasn’t as innocent as he thought.

The sound of the two swords clashing drew him to another memory, his fifteenth birthday, when he’d been gifted with this sword. When he’d read the inscription, which wrote about the sacred first woman, Eve, the woman he thought was his mother, he had been inspired. Now he realised it symbolised the sin of the first woman. He was sin, Sam had sinned the moment he had picked up that sword. He ducked the second blow, body dropping elegantly as he listened to his father’s feet, listened to the rush of air and brought his sword up to protect the hit.

Eve had been a nice woman. He had vague memories of her, of a woman who would sit him on her knee, would stroke her hand through his hair and mutter sweet promises about how she was going to protect him from everything. He heard the sword coming, pushed his to hit head on, and felt his wrist throb in protest. Eve had died when he was five, tripped and broke her neck. Ironic, now that he knew Azazel had killed her.

Then there had been the wars. The outskirts had been rebellious, and Sam had followed his father’s warhorse through the blood and bodies, led to the prisoners at each camp. They were sent down into the mines, made to work in the darkest of places. There was one place, a camp called Hell, where they had sent the worst rebels. Sam had seen it once, and it was what he thought, if Heaven existed, Hell was really like. Heaven may not be a place on Earth, but Hell certainly was. He remembered his sword slicing through people that did nothing but stand up for they believed in. A sword hit his thigh, and he cried out, blocking the second blow that would have been fatal, stumbling back.

His guilt, it was what had always blinded him. For all his life, Sam had been unsure of what he was. The Prince of Elysia, heir to the Empire. A warrior, who fought for his Kingdom. An advisor, who strategized and plotted, who could bring empires down of build them up. Then, there were the other sides to the story. He was Sam Elysia, the pretend son of Eve. He was Sam, a monster that had killed innocent people. He was Sam, the boy that had got his biological mother murdered. Another blow hit him, but he blocked it again, stabbing back. He was none of those things now, he was not someone who would bend to the will of a corrupt man.

He was Sam Elysia, the son of Mary Campbell, a woman who had died to give him life. He was Sam Elysia, the rightful King of the Empire, and the man that would bring the Kingdom out of the clutches of a madman. He was the man who would free the slaves, who would open up the rebel’s torturous Hell and listen to them, negotiate and bargain. He would not make people fear him, he would let them love him. He would avenge his mother, he would avenge Abaddon, he would avenge that ever stood and lost against his father.

His sword connected with skin, he heard his father lose balance, slicing down on the hand that held the sword. The scream meant he’d connected, the thud meant his father was now missing a hand, and Sam rose the sword to press at the point just below his Adam’s apple. Even blind, he found the spot, keeping his sword there as he stripped the blindfold free. Bright light swarmed his vision, before he focused on the sight in front of him. His father, on his knees, yellow-eyes pleading.

‘I can help you.’ He tried, and Sam scoffed, tightening his grip on the sword. It would be simple, just slice through. The Guards weren’t moving to protect him, they weren’t stopping Sam.

‘Mary isn’t dead.’ He blurted, and that one made Sam tilt his head. If that were true, then… No. It changed nothing. If Mary was alive, then he would find her. But he didn’t need Azazel to do that.

‘Where?’ He asked, keeping the sword still, watching sweat beads roll down his father’s neck. His sword was red at the end, the cut on his father’s thigh bleeding, his right hand clutched to his chest, bleeding out.

‘Hell.’ Azazel tried, and Sam understood. He understood, and felt horrified.

‘Mercy, son, please. I was wrong, to treat you like a soldier and not like my son. But I do love you, you’re my flesh and blood. I was wrong.’ Azazel pleaded, and Sam’s hands shook slightly, words that he had wanted to hear since he was a kid, words he’d always wanted to hear. The only person that had said them had been his mother, Eve, who had ran her fingers through his curly hair and pressed kisses to his head. That was love. Love from a woman who knew that she wasn’t even his real mother.

Sam withdrew the sword, Azazel gasping for air, and Sam stepped forward. The sword moved cleanly, piercing through the cloth of his shirt without hesitation. Azazel looked down, blood dribbling from his lips, eyes wide in confusion. Sam rose his foot, kicking the body of his sword, the pain in his stomach making him want to curl up and cry. Instead, he turned to the Leader of the Army, General Dagon, and waited.

Very slowly, after what felt like hours, he dropped to his knees. Others followed, the Guards dropping down, submitting to Sam. He turned, watching every one of them do so, until he felt the weight lift off of his shoulders.

‘The King is dead, long live the King.’ Dagon stated, the Guards repeated it, and Sam could have cried. Free, at last.


	14. Meeting a Bradbury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Crown, as Sam discovers, is complicated

Sitting on his father’s throne, no, his throne, Sam Elysia looked out across his Court, a newly assembled Court, as they decided on urgent matters. Two weeks after his coronation, Sam had done a lot. Destroyed the old camps holding rebels, released them all, and gave them back the Province lands. Dropped the new tax that was unfair, regulated the shift in payments through a new series of tax-collectors. Found Mary Winchester and brought her to Dean and John, who had been trying to talk to him for the past two weeks. So were the Novaks. Both families sat at the back of the room, being the only families so far to be elected by him.

Sam hadn’t slept that much. That was one thing that didn’t happen, he was tired, but sleep would not come easily. The Court he had elected sat, discussing the matter of the people currently in Prison, the ones that had been holding the rebels as slaves in the outer district. Sam looked to the two rebels seated at the table, the elected candidates from their people. The arguing had been going for a while, Sam staying out of it. He was relatively bored of this discussion, and decided to end it.

‘Have them tried as war criminals.’ His voice broke through the Council, the twelve electives falling silent. Sam continued to stare at the painting on the wall, the one of Azazel and him, and then back to the table.

‘They went against my father’s orders, which were to hold the rebels. Not beat them. Try them as war criminals, all fifty of them, at the Royal Court. Each assessed on an individual basis, with the chance for victims to step forwards. Judge and jury, proper punishment.’ The Council began to nod, and Sam turned his head back to the painting.

‘What of the issue of legality of the Royal Family, your Majesty?’ Sam knew this was an issue. Azazel had claimed the throne from his father, so technically, there was the right to the throne.

‘Every Province has declared loyalty to you, and the state of Promea as well.’ Sam had sent them aid, watched them recover, and now they backed him. Amusing, really. It was true, most people liked him. He listened, had dropped taxes and boosted investment, and was working of laws to stop unfair usage of the justice system.

‘Azazel was the legitimate King, his reign ended the moment he declared war on the Village of Westbrook.’ An act of war, and the King could be struck of as insane.

‘And Eve?’ Never actually his mother, nor Queen. This was the issue he faced, whether to declare Mary mother to the King, Dean as his brother.

‘Azazel’s lover. Just as Abaddon was.’ The name still stung, so he looked down to the cygnet ring on his hand, the ring that had been plucked from the hand his father had lost.

‘And Mary Winchester?’ A Councilman prodded, even though the woman was sitting in the Throne room, and he couldn’t bare to look at her for fear of rejection. He paused, knowing whatever he said would be the law, would be accepted.

‘Lady Mary Winchester, mother to the King. But, unclaimable due to the issue of Eve.’ They wrote this down, and Sam pondered on the title he would bestow upon his mother. Declaring her the first noblewoman of state was hard enough, but now he must give her a title.

‘Title?’ The question was not unexpected. Mary Winchester was originally a Campbell, coming from the Province of Lawrence.

‘Countess of Lawrence.’ A high title, one that had the Councillors staring at him, but Sam held the gaze. They wrote this down.

‘And your brother?’ He flinched at the term, not knowing what to do about that. Not yet, anyway.

‘Brother to the King, but illegitimate.’ He paused momentarily, wondering what title his brother deserved. Dean was a good man, and Castiel was his boyfriend, naturally they deserved a reward for believing in him.

‘Duke of the Southern Provinces.’ Murmurs from the table, the people looking to him. Sam gave a steady smile, looking to them.

‘Each noblewoman and man will have a Council, for their states, and will elect one to the main Parliament. Elected by the people.’ The councilmen wrote this down, ready to draw up plans for the law. Sam sat back in the throne, twisting the cygnet ring around his finger.

‘Policy on the heir to the throne?’ There were no trained noblemen in the country, nor no women, and so nobody obvious to state as his heir. Sam considered it, considered what the people would respect.

‘Upon my death, the eldest of my children, regardless of gender. If there are no children, then the throne falls to my brother.’ More scribbles, and Sam thought about that for a while. If Dean stabbed him in the neck, he could technically become King.

‘I want a clause on that. The Duke must have completed the correct economic and political training, signed off by me, if he is to have the Crown. If not, then the Council is to dictate ruling until the Duke has done the training the Council see necessary.’ Hums of agreement from the table, and Sam relaxed slightly. No being stabbed in the neck by his half-brother.

‘Marriage?’ The rebel leader, Dillan Franks, asked him. Sam knew that he had to marry a common-born person, man or woman. That was all that was stated.

‘As agreed previously. I will pursue it in time.’ No he wouldn’t. Lies, he didn’t want someone that close to him.

‘What of the Mad-King’s brother?’ A couple of tuts at the term Mad, then some confused faces.

‘Brother?’ Franks spoke up, staring at Sam.

‘Asmodeus. Dead, long gone.’ Sam stated, eyes drifting back to the painting momentarily as if to remind himself of that moment.

‘Do we press the death as murder?’ He knew they were prying, nobody really knew what happened to Asmodeus. Nobody had been in the room, Sam was the only one alive that had seen it.

‘Azazel, though responsible, was acting on an act of treason.’ Sam stated, and the Council wrote this down as well. Sam waited, but the Council appeared to be done with the questions.

‘Right. The trials for war criminals will start tomorrow, so for now, you’re dismissed.’ They all stood, bowing as Sam rose, walking from the Throne Room. Guards nodded as he walked past, but Sam ignored them in favour for returning to his father’s chambers, his chambers. They had been redecorated quickly, and no longer had his taint. Sam slumped back into the chair, poured himself a generous glass of alcohol, then drained it.

**

The trials were pretty grim. Each was convicted individually, going through rebel leaders until one was led in the Sam remembered all too well. Jacob Styne was not a man that you could forget, and Sam remembered him slicing through men with easy, dragging women across the floor and cutting them open. He remembered him gripping his hair, forcing Sam to watch as his father killed.

None of the rebels would speak up. He could see the terror, could see the Council desperately asking for people to protest against him. Otherwise, the man would go free. The King stood, the Court falling silent.

‘Jacob Styne, condemned to death.’ He sat down, the Council turned to him, but none looked angry.

‘Death? Without a trial?’ One of them asked, and Sam looked straight at him.

‘Yes.’ Jacob bowed his head, but there was a smirk on his lips, like he was remembering the same thing that Sam was. He watched him be led out, before a woman entered, and a Councilman introduced the red-head.

‘Your Majesty, at your request, each rebel faction was assigned access to free therapy to recover from the ordeals they faced. The team of therapists are led by Miss Charlie Bradbury.’ He gestured to her, and Sam rose to greet the woman. She curtseyed politely, and he nodded.

‘A pleasure to meet you, Miss Bradbury.’ He offered a hand, which she accepted, and he took it and kissed the ends.

‘Likewise, your Majesty.’

‘The Council have put Miss Bradbury onto two cases within the Palace, your Majesty.’ Sam raised an eyebrow, asking who, not having a problem with housing her. After all, half the rooms were empty.

‘The Lady Mary, my King, and yourself.’ The last bit was rushed, and Sam tilted his head to the man.

‘The Council thought it appropriate, your Majesty.’ Sam didn’t need a therapist, but he also didn’t need to argue with his Court already, so he thanked them, then dismissed them. The two families left in the room were people he didn’t really want to talk to yet, he was still worried of their opinions, so he turned back to the therapist.

‘Miss Bradbury, a suite will be made available for you. Crowley here will show you to the rooms.’ The Guard came forwards, smiling to Sam, who smiled back. He could trust the Guard, at least.

‘Thank you, your Majesty.’

‘Sam is fine.’ He stated, and her eyes flicked slightly, like she was surprised.

‘Do all of your Court get to call you Sam?’

‘Has the session started already?’ He quipped, and her smile widened. She bobbed a curtsey, her smile growing as Sam bowed his head.

‘Tomorrow morning, your Majesty. Our first session.’ He watched her turn to the door and walk out, before he stood in the room, looking up at the throne he had left. He knew that the families hadn’t left, that his relatives and friends were watching him. Sam had never felt lonelier, stuck in a place where he didn’t know if they forgave him for what he had done. For almost getting them killed. Sam wanted to go to them, wanted to beg for forgiveness, but instead, he looked to one of the Guards at the door.

‘Have this painting removed.’ He said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the image of his father. The Guard bowed, before he spoke up,

‘And destroyed, my King?’ Sam looked to it, looked to the image of him smiling, and sighed.

‘No. My chambers, if you don’t mind. I’ll hang it up.’ He stared back at it, then walked out of the room, the weight returning. 


	15. Progress?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King does some talking. And some less healthy coping methods

‘Let’s start with something simple, hmm?’ Charlie Bradbury was relentless, he had to give her that. They sat in the room his father sometimes called the waiting room, a room that overlooked the Garden. He pretended not to notice his friends in the Garden, pretended not to notice them looking through the glass doors. He filled the whiskey glass back up, then ended up draining it again.

‘Lady Abaddon. Do you blame yourself for her death?’ She inquired, keeping the notepad still against her lap. Sam raised his eyebrows, as if she were mad.

‘That’s usually who get’s the blame, the murderer.’ He stated, and she wrote something down. He decided that he didn’t like this already, and poured another drink. Better drunk, than have to deal with people screaming when he shut his eyes. Apparently, killing the madman did not take away the guilt.

‘I heard it was a difficult situation.’ Charlie prodded, as if Sam couldn’t remember the exact way he had rose the gun, had tightened his finger around the trigger and watched the woman die.

‘He would have killed the others. It was a logical decision, based on saving the many. It does not mean I do not bear the blame.’ Charlie looked at him, strangely too close for comfort.

‘And what made you choose her, over Miss Lissa Fairgrove?’

‘The fact that Lissa was innocent. And a child.’ Charlie nodded, writing this down.

‘Did you know you could win the fight?’ He shook his head, he didn’t know, obviously. Who could guarantee a win?

‘Did you think you could win the fight?’ She asked, and he thought it was the same question, before he realised that it wasn’t. In fact, it was entirely different.

‘It didn’t matter. I fought him because I had to, regardless of who would win.’ He sipped from the drink, knowing alcoholic would probably come up on the words used to describe him. That made him smile momentarily.

‘Do you want to talk to me about Dean?’ He shook his head, no, he really didn’t want to talk about his half-brother.

‘What about your father?’ He rolled his eyes, looking at her and realising she was serious.

‘No, I don’t need to talk about him. He’s dead.’ He pointed out, putting the glass down.

‘Have you considered that the reason you are so afraid about their reaction to you is because you haven’t forgiven yourself?’ Sam felt his heart stutter, felt his body scream at him.

‘Out. Get… get out.’ She nodded, walking to the door, and he waited till he heard the click. Sam looked around the room, focusing on the stupid chair he’d been sitting on. He didn’t even realise what he was doing until the red-hot anger ebbed away, when he focused again and realised that the room was wrecked. The chairs were broken, the bookshelf broken, books strewn across the floor. The couch cushions had been torn up, stuffing across the floor. Sam stared at the wreck, then to his bleeding hands, then picked up the bottle of whiskey that had survived his rage, took a long drink, then walked out of the room.

The painting was heavy, dragging it into the Garden took effort, and a lot of odd looks. He finished dragging it, dropped it to the grass, and stared. Then, taking another drink, he poured the rest over it. He reached for matches, things he had put in his pocket, but someone was by his side.

‘Let me.’ He watched the lighter drop, watched fire spread across the image. He turned to Meg, looked right at her, waiting for her to say something.

‘I’m sorry.’ The words hadn’t come from Meg, he realised that he’d spoken them, and the blonde turned to him. Sam sunk down, feeling the ground squidge under his knees. Meg was by his side, wrapped her arms around him, held him close.

‘Now, that wasn’t so hard, Sammy.’ She muttered, and held him as the fire roared, and Sam felt his pain ebb away under the embrace.

**

‘Who was Jacob Styne to you?’ Surprisingly, this wasn’t one of his sessions. It was dinner, Sam was seated at the head of the table, and the Winchesters and Novaks, plus the Priest, were here. They weren’t necessarily talking, but Sam would smile occasionally to them. Enough to allow them to have dinner with him, he didn’t think this was a dangerous thing.

‘Are we in one of your sessions, Charlie?’ He asked fondly, amused as she stabbed a potato. She grinned, taking a sip of wine and watching him.

‘No, I’m just curious.’ That was the word he would use to describe Charlie, if Sam was honest. Curious, about everything.

‘One of Azazel’s Guards.’ Sam answered, his stomach threatening to bring up food if he kept eating.

‘Now, that isn’t it. You seemed pretty certain he should die.’ Charlie said it casually, even though Sam knew she didn’t mean to make it seem like he was an executioner. Sam pondered the question, did he really blame Styne for those deaths? It was under his father’s orders, after all. Maybe Charlie would help him see if he’d been over-reacting, maybe he had been. Maybe if he told her, she would tell him that he didn’t deserve death. That would help clear his conscience.

‘There was a Village, Jacob Styne was the leader of the Guard at the time. Azazel led the march, brought the rebels forwards, chained the women and children down. It was my first mission outside of the Inner City…’

‘How old?’ She interrupted, and he gave her a look.

‘Fifteen, I think. Anyway, Azazel asked me to kill the five rebels, the men they’d captured. I refused, and Styne shot the women and children. All of them. Then proceeded to dissect the men in front of me, Styne was the one who held me down to make me watch.’ When they didn’t speak, he figured his judgement was probably wrong. ‘I guess maybe death was too harsh.’ He stabbed a potato, wondering if life imprisonment would be better.

‘I think death it too light.’ Charlie said, and he looked across. She had actual tears in her eyes, and as he looked down the table, other people were staring at him like he was some sort of injured animal. Sam looked back to Charlie, confusion on his face.

‘Sam, you get that that wasn’t your fault? You can’t ask a fifteen-year-old to kill someone.’ He knew they wouldn’t understand, that they wouldn’t see that he was already a monster.

‘I’ve been killing people since I was eleven, Charlie. What difference does one more make.’ He snapped, standing up and walking away, knowing deep down that she was trying to help. He didn’t care, he didn’t need help. He needed to ensure that the people of Elysia were safe.


	16. Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter, so I'm going to post two today! :) Enjoy

Sam was lonely. It was what people never told you about the price of the crown, the utter loneliness that crept in silently. Three months, people were happy, but today was a bad day. They happened, Sam knew that, and he sat silently on his throne. His council sat as well, nervous. The Duke sat in the box to the side of the throne, with his mother, their mother. The others were there sitting silently. Charlie caught his gaze, offering a bright smile. He hesitantly smiled back, before he looked down to the Council.

‘He is a convicted traitor, death is the sentence.’ Sam, when he had heard of a Guard that had been loyal to Azazel, had known that this couldn’t be good news. Then he’d been told the Guard had been dismissed from the Guard by Azazel, which was odd, because now he was coming in and arguing Sam shouldn’t take the throne.

When Sam saw who it was, his heart clenched. He had thought that seeing Styne had been bad, but seeing Raphael was harder. He knew the Guard, knew exactly why he’d been dismissed. The man grinned, looking to the Council, and Sam got the hint. He stood up, slowly, willing his heart to slow down before he passed out.

‘Council dismissed.’ They didn’t argue, why would they? He watched the Councilmen leave, then nodded to the Guards, who walked out as well. Alone, except the people that judged him silently from the corner. He could dismiss them, was going to, but Charlie, Cas and Meg shot him glares. The King, accepting defeat, turned back to the man on the floor.

‘Raphael.’ He stated, and the grin stretched further.

‘Knew you’d remember me.’ The way he said it, the low tone that told Sam he should probably unsheathe his sword and slice it straight through skin, before he opened his mouth and people found out the truth.

‘What do you want?’ Sam asked, genuinely curious. Now that he knew Raphael was alive, he couldn’t let him go to public execution. He couldn’t risk it.

‘To chat about the good old days. Heard you beat dear old daddy, blindfold and all.’ Raphael was baiting him, willing Sam to mess up, and Sam was unsure how to proceed. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew that, for the sake of the Crown, he couldn’t allow him to walk free.

‘It would explain the Crown.’ Sam stated, gesturing to the small day-Crown that sat on his head. The Guard laughed, and Sam remembered the sound distinctly.

‘Let’s chat.’ Raphael stated, and Sam saw it, the promise of the truth. He sat back down slowly, the throne feeling cold as he rested his hand over the sword, then drew it back.

‘About what?’ Sam asked, looking to Charlie for guidance. But, of course, she didn’t know who he was. She was looking back, looking at him with that complexion that told Sam he had to go with his gut. Sam squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, sending a prayer to the God that helped him win the fight against his father, before looking back to Raphael. The man had that look in his eye, the one Sam recognised all too well. The look of a man about to risk everything, knowing death would be the best option.

‘I heard Daddy got mad when he found out you’d let someone pop your cherry.’ Sam kept a calm face, even though his mother was in the room, even though Gabriel was in the room. Nobody had brought it up, but Raphael looked smug.

‘Why’d you think he said that?’ Raphael asked him, and Sam could see the trap, laid out perfectly. He thought momentarily to the night with Gabriel, thought to how safe he felt curled up against him, how he thought nothing could hurt him.

‘Because it’s the truth.’ He lied, and his face betrayed him, as did his voice. It wavered beautifully, and Sam watched Raphael smile, shuffle forwards so the cuffs were digging. Sam felt his anger, felt it building, and didn’t know what to do. Raphael was going to tell them, was going to blurt a secret that was better kept, and he didn’t know what to do.

‘Is it?’ Raphael questioned, and Sam ignored him. He couldn’t win, if he killed him, Raphael would win. If he didn’t, they would find out. Sam looked for Charlie, finding her gaze, silently asking what to do. The woman stared right back at him, stared at him as he asked her what to do. The look she gave him, the one from session a couple of days ago. She’d told him some things he had to do, some people had to die, that it was the Price of the Crown on his head. Sam had listened, noting that some people had to die for the safety of the Crown. But then, she’d said something else. That anger wasn’t the right thing, and so Sam didn’t let the anger through.

‘What you believe, Raphael, is the testimony of a dying man. Nobody will believe you.’ He calmly said, and the man laughed, tipped his head back so that Sam could see the sweat roll down his face. He stood, calmly, and took the gun from his belt. Azazel’s gun. The one he’d used to shoot Abaddon.

‘Any last requests?’ He asked, letting the silence stretch, letting his body calm as it placed a finger round the trigger. Raphael smirked, and Sam forced his body to stay still. This was fine, he was safe.

‘Can’t change what you are, Sammy. Asmodeus’ bitch. Azazel’s bitch. Definitely not a virgin once they were done.’ Sam felt the words, knew he should react, but he just couldn’t really find the energy. He had a Crown, he had a life. And they were both dead. That was what made him smile, made his lips tug into a sneer.

‘And they’re dead.’ Sam stated, finger tightening, the same coil in his stomach as was with Abaddon, releasing suddenly as the body dropped, the shot echoing. The door opened, Guards coming in. They seemed pleased by the death, and Sam saw that they were coming for the body. Sam looked to the Guard that had overseen his training, that had listened outside the room when Asmodeus trained him, and satisfaction spread.

‘Don’t worry. I’ve got it.’ Sam took the Crown off, placed it on his throne, then lifted the dead body. If this was what freedom felt like, then he was oddly alright with it.


	17. Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam finally speaks to Dean. And Gabriel.

He looked out across the grounds, sitting on the balcony as he sipped wine. It was sweet, soft to taste, and Sam turned his head to look at the arrival, mild surprise on his face.

‘Are you going to send me away?’ Sam stared at Dean for a long time, not sure if he should. The first time actually sitting together, actually talking. Sam shrugged, gesturing to the chair opposite his. Dean walked slowly, like he was afraid to spook him, and Sam poured another glass of wine. Dean accepted, although his face scrunched up when he tasted it. Sam chuckled, and Dean had the decency to blush.

‘It takes some getting used to.’ He offered, and his half-brother smiled slightly, like he actually wanted to like Sam. The thought made hope flare, but Sam shoved it down, looking out to the night’s sky.

‘I was hoping I could talk to you.’ Dean began, and Sam looked across to him.

‘Yes?’ Sam stated, wondering if Dean feared him. Afterall, Sam was a monster. Who wouldn’t fear him?

‘I hoped you’d teach me to fight. Sword-fight.’ Sam just stared at him for a very long time, trying to understand why, and Dean gave a smirk.

‘Unless you’re worried I’ll beat your scrawny ass.’ Sam actually laughed, the shock making it so much better. He didn’t know what Dean was trying to do, didn’t understand, but Sam nodded his head.

‘Tomorrow. Tell Cas to take you to the training grounds. Two hours before lunch.’ Dean grinned, downing his wine so quickly that Sam wondered if his drinking habits came from the other half of his blood, not from Azazel.

‘Why?’ Sam blurted, blaming the half-glass of wine rather than the fact he wanted it so badly, wanted a brother.

‘I don’t know you all that well, little brother. Figured I should change that.’ Sam bit his lip to stop the smile, looked back out to the night hesitantly.

‘Okay.’

**

Dean was awful. They trained every day, in the silence of each other’s company, nobody else present. Sam started to get used to having his brother’s company, used to having someone to talk to, even if it was about simple matters. After five weeks, it was decided that they would allow the others, who had constantly been asking, to come and watch. Sam was slightly worried, not that Dean would beat him, although they could spar well hand to hand. He was worried that it was still a plot, that his brother wasn’t serious.

Sam swung the sword lazily, ignoring the people cheering for them, some telling Dean to whoop his ass (Castiel and Meg), and others telling Sam to lay it on him (Gabriel, Lucifer and Charlie. Michael stayed quiet along with the other “grownups”). Dean shot him a smile, a bright one, and Sam felt himself return it. Dean was the first to lunge, Sam skidding back in the sand to avoid it, to make Dean work harder.

It was fun. They parried back and forth, blocked and sent blows, danced around in the sand. Sam, with the stamina of doing this since he was four, was less sweaty than Dean. After fifteen minutes, Sam disarmed Dean, and he growled slightly. Sam laughed, drove his sword into the dust and looked to his brother. He was surprised when Dean made a come-hither movement, spreading his feet shoulder-width apart in the dust, like he was going to actually fight. Sam, never one to turn down from a challenge, accepted.

They were more equally matched in hand-to-hand combat, Sam could never beat Dean easily, always had to work for it. Even when he got a mouthful of sand, spitting it in the direction of his brother, who snorted with amusement, it was friendly. Not fighting for training, which he had always come to fear.

‘Your Majesty?’ Crowley asked, standing in the door. Dean, who was just about ready to topple over, patted Sam’s thigh twice, the King removing the grip he had over his elder brother. He watched Dean walk to the table, grabbing a water bottle and draining almost the entire thing.

‘My section were wondering if we would be able to train with you.’ Crowley politely asked, and usually, Sam would have said no. He had no need to, but Crowley had been loyal, and Sam didn’t fear holding a sword like he used to. He nodded, watching Crowley’s section of eight men come in. Nine to face in total, all trained by the royal Guard. He reckoned that he could have them down in under ten minutes.

They didn’t have enough swords in the room, Sam handing his across to Crowley, and realising he didn’t have one. He walked to the wall, finger running across the seam until he found the compartment, the wall pushing out to reveal a weapons rack. He brushed past Asmodeus’ blade, unable to look at it, and his father’s training sword. He picked up a spare, one he’d used on a couple of occasions. Shutting the door, he turned to the soldiers.

It was fun. He actually enjoyed himself, despite the fact he was wearing no armour and had to work to keep blows from hitting. It took him nine minutes for them to retreat, bowing and thanking him for his time. He didn’t mind, it had been fun. Dean looked less worn out when he walked back down to the sandpit, across to the compartment Sam had shown them. He popped it out while Sam returned blades to the racks, watched carefully as Dean unhooked Asmodeus’ blade.

It was irresistible. It was a gorgeous sword, Sam had always been envious, and watching Dean swing it made his stomach tense. Such a gorgeous sword, such a dangerous man.

‘Who’s is it?’ Dean inquired, practicing lunging with the sword, Sam finding himself wishing he hadn’t seen it. Fear trickled in, but he hid it well.

‘Asmodeus’.’ He answered, although he kept his face calm as Dean walked across, watched as he held the handle, and Sam felt memories threaten to rip through. Keeping them back, he looked back to his brother’s gaze.

‘Your Uncle?’ Dean was probing. Sam could see the curiosity burning, but he still nodded. Turning back to the rack of swords, Sam worked on anything but staring at the sword that Dean was holding.

‘He trained you?’ Dean asked again, and Sam forced his body to quit being such a baby.

‘Yeah. Four years old, till his death.’ Till Azazel saw what Asmodeus was doing, saw Sam screaming and writhing in the dirt, driving a sword through his own brother’s chest. Grief, that was what the sudden feeling was, the loss of the father he remembered in that moment, the father than had sunk to the floor and held a bleeding, sobbing Sam as he stared at the body on the floor.

‘Azazel killed him?’ Sam heard the words, but his head was spinning slightly. Instead of running, he did the more difficult thing. He asked.

‘Could we not talk about it?’ Dean backed away instantly, and Sam felt air rush back into his lungs. He excused himself from his brother, finding his way to the grave that had been put in the backyard for the Mad-King. Found himself kneeling at his father’s grave, remembering the moment where Sam had never felt safer, the embrace sacred in his mind.

‘Hey kiddo.’ Gabriel sat down beside him, cautious, and Sam realised it was their first time talking alone since the night that they were drunk. Sam looked across, smiling, then back to the grave.

‘You wanna talk? I’ll just listen, no judgement from me.’ Gabriel promised, and Sam felt his mind itching to take the offer, to explain to Gabriel what was wrong.

‘Asmodeus… he was hurting me. When Azazel found out… he was mad. Put a sword through his chest, pulled the body off me and held me. First time, last time.’ The embrace of his father was something he never knew he needed until that point, then realised how he would never have it again. Gabriel stayed quiet, and Sam reached for his hand, surprised when it was allowed. Fingers entwined, held safe.


	18. Mother?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date. Followed by some issues for the new King

‘Is this a date?’ Sam asked, looking amused as the Novak grinned. Gabriel had demanded to be shown the sights, and they had ended up on horseback, heading to one of the viewpoints. Sam was quite happy to be there, sitting next to Gabriel, who kept trying to urge him to drink some of the wine.

‘Do you want it to be?’ Gabriel asked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. Sam laughed, watched as Gabriel shuffled closer to hid side. Sam’s eyes dropped momentarily to Gabriel’s lips, remembering how they’d felt against his. Of course, the smaller man noted the movement, smirking slightly. Sam looked away, blushed dark, and was thankful that it was night time.

‘You flirt with everything, Gabriel. If you thought it would work, you’d flirt with a cocoa plant for more chocolate.’ That made him laugh, and Sam found himself smiling as well.

‘Yes, but none of them mean anything.’ He pointed out, and suddenly Sam felt too vulnerable, too exposed. This was alright, he was getting used to Gabriel flirting, but he couldn’t so easily dismiss his duties. Gabriel sighed.

‘You know, you’re allowed to have fun. Even as a King.’ Sam hesitated, before Gabriel stood up, offering out his hand.

‘Where are we going?’ Sam inquired, taking his hand and standing. Gabriel grinned slightly, that grin that Sam knew meant he was up to mischief.

‘Trust me.’

**

The water was freezing. Sam gasped as Gabriel splashed him, before he dived, taking the smaller man under the water with him. Gabriel laughed, attempting to dunk Sam under as the two played in the water. Sam didn’t ask how Gabriel knew about this place, it was too fun to play under the moonlight. It was pretty cold water, and Sam was thankful for taking all of his clothes, apart from boxers, off.

Gabriel leaped at him again, and Sam barely had time to gasp air before he went under, gripping Gabriel by the hips and pulling him down with him. When they both came up, sucking in air and laughing, Sam looked to the Novak, finding him watching him.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nice to hear you laugh, Samalam.’ Sam blushed slightly, although it was dark, and turned away slightly.

‘C’mon, kid. Let’s get you back to the Palace.’ The fact that he’d called him kid made Sam laugh, before he swam to the shoreline with Gabriel. He tried to keep his eyes to himself as they walked out, but Gabriel was pretty attractive, and so what if he was staring slightly. Then, the Novak turned so suddenly that Sam was caught, and looked awkwardly away.

He watched Gabriel stalk towards him, the smug look never wavering. When he stood in front of him, Sam found himself staring into whiskey eyes. A hand wrapped into his hair, another brushed along his jaw. It was an offer, one Sam didn’t deny. His head ducked down, lips pressing to the Gabriel’s, and it felt right. It felt good, like he was supposed to be able to have this. When he pulled back, his heart was racing, and Gabriel looked pleased.

‘This was a good night, Sammich.’ Sam didn’t disagree, allowing Gabriel to ride back on his horse, sitting in front of him so that Sam could keep him close. Gabriel had protested at first, but now was having great fun wriggling back against Sam, who was focusing on riding to stop blood being diverted. When they reached the Palace, Gabriel returned to the Novak residence, and Sam walked to his chambers.

‘Good evening, your Majesty.’ Crowley stated, and Sam grinned. The Guard looked equally happy, probably because he had a date last night, although Sam hadn’t asked who. Just allowed him to go out.

‘Good evening, Crowley. You’re dismissed for the rest of the evening.’ Crowley thanked him, and Sam walked to his room, humming happily to himself as he did so. He opened his door, walked to his closet, stripping clothes off as he went. Putting on sweatpants, he returned to his room, stopping when he saw the person on his bed.

‘Mom?’ Eve turned her head, dark hair rippling in the moonlight that streaked through the open balcony door. Sam just stared, watched as the woman rose, walking across to him. She had tears streaming down her face, a smile on her lips. He saw the scar across her throat, wanted to ask, but found his voice gone.

‘My boy, my beautiful baby boy. I’ve missed you so much.’ Her hands reached, and Sam didn’t deny, pulling her close as she cried, held him, tears tracking down his chest as she held him.

**

‘Well, Lady Eve, you seem to be in otherwise good health.’ Hannah stated, looking to Sam, who was watching his mother carefully. She stood, looking in the mirror and tracking the scar.

‘I couldn’t believe it, when they released me, I knew Azazel was dead. Thank you.’ Eve added, looking back to Sam, who was watching her. She looked older, which made sense, she’d been gone a long time. He was still in shock, since last night, he hadn’t had time to tell anyone other than Hannah, and Crowley, who had gone to tell the Council to assemble before lunch. The Novaks and Winchesters had probably heard, and would no doubt be in the room.

‘Look at you, my boy, all grown up.’ She traced his cheek, and Sam tilted his head towards the touch. Vague memories of fingers curled in hair, secret words of love as Azazel glared at them. She had been persecuted by him just as Sam had, and he could see the shining love in her eyes. The only issue was that he had a mother, Mary, who he had just started to be able to talk to. Now, Eve had come back.

‘We need to introduce you to the council, so you can stay.’ He stated, and Eve beamed. Curiosity got the better of him, his fingers reaching out and tracing the cut along her throat. She held still, allowed it, and watched as his face grew darker. She took his hand, and his eyes rose to her blue ones.

‘Do not be angry, my boy. We’re back together now, nothing can come between us again.’ Sam didn’t miss the way Hannah stared at her, but he was smiling at Eve, held her close.

‘It was awful, without you. He… he was insane.’ Sam muttered, sinking to his knees and pressing his head to her stomach. Hands wrapped into his hair, holding him close. He didn’t care that Hannah was in the room, he just wanted to feel safe, like he had as a child with Eve.

‘I know, I know sweetheart. You were so brave, but you don’t have to be now. I’m here for you.’ Sam held her tightly, Hannah excusing herself.

‘I have a brother. And…’ He stopped, about to say the word mother, but Eve smiled warmly.

‘I know. I took you in like you were my own, even though I knew. I just wish… you were so little. Five years old, but I knew Asmodeus… I knew what he was doing.’ At five, Sam had only been with him a year. His heart tightened, but this was Eve, the woman he had thought was his mother for his entire life. He didn’t care, didn’t care that she had known. He took her hand, standing tall.

‘Come. Let’s introduce you to the world.’


	19. Mother Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King has a new friend

Sam walked into the throne room, Eve walking behind, as precedent stated. When the Council had finished bowing, they looked to her. Not many knew the former lover of the King, looking confused. Sam reached his throne, realising there was no seat for his mother. She had been travelling for hours to reach him, had used the passages to sneak in, and needed a seat. He looked to the throne, gesturing for her to sit. Eve curtseyed to him, accepting his hand, and he helped her up the stairs.

The Council seemed concerned by the woman sitting on the throne, presumably thinking she was too old to be his lover. She did look older, wrinkles appearing, some grey dotted into her dark hair. Sam still found her stunning, like he always had as a child. Every inch the woman who had gone against Azazel, and won.

‘Sire?’ Sam realised he had been staring at Eve, turned back to the Council. The woman on the throne was his main priority for today. The Novaks and Winchesters were here, which was good. They would want to join in the celebrations for him finding his mother.

‘Councilmen, noble families, may I introduce Lady Eve.’ Mumbles from the Council, who looked shocked. One managed to stammer out a “how?”, and Sam went to explain, but Eve cleared her throat, smiling sweetly at him.

‘Azazel tried to kill me.’ She gestured to her throat, ‘And, presuming I wouldn’t be an issue, had me sent away. When the camps were broken down I was freed, and came back to the Palace, knowing the Old King must be dead.’ Sam kept still, watching her carefully. Eve smiled at him, blue eyes shining.

‘Why would Azazel try and kill you?’ One of them asked, and her face grew dark.

‘I spoke up against him training the Prince, sorry, King, from such a young age.’ Asmodeus. She’d spoken out against what Asmodeus was doing. That was why relations between the siblings broke down, Eve had told Azazel. Sure, the King had taken his brother’s side, but Eve had saved him. Sam stared at her, feeling tears threaten, and she was smiling right back.

‘Sire, the position of the Lady Eve?’ He looked to them, then back to his… mother. What title was appropriate? He couldn’t have her as mother to the King, that was Mary’s position.

‘Countess of Romen.’ Her home, originally. The Countess smiled, although Sam felt bad, stripping her of the highest ranking noblewoman in the country. Mary still ranked higher.

‘Thank you, your Majesty.’ Sam nodded to the group who bowed, turning back to Eve.

‘My boy, I’m awfully tired. Would it be alright if I retired?’ Sam felt bad, he knew she would be tired. He nodded immediately, walking to her side.

‘Of course, you can rest in my room whilst your chambers are prepared.’ Eve smiled, standing slowly. Her fingers brushed his cheek, and Sam was back to being a happy toddler, running after her on short legs.

‘Thank you, my son.’ Her lips pressed to his cheek, and he watched her walk from the room.

‘You’re dismissed.’ He stated to the Council, not turning as he watched the door that Eve had walked out of. He just about managed to wait until the Council were out of the door before running after his mother, wanting to make sure she got to the bed alright.

**

Eve laughed, hands gripped tighter against his chest. He urged Thunder on, the horse cantering through the woods. Her cloak rippled out behind them as they rode, and Sam felt free. They paused by the lake, dismounting and standing close.

‘I missed you.’ She admitted, and Sam smiled to her.

‘I missed you too, mother.’ He said honestly. Eve looked pleased, before she took his hand, looking to the cygnet ring on his finger.

‘I heard about the fight. I’m impressed. Perhaps we could spar, this afternoon?’ He accepted the offer, then paused.

‘I’m sparring with Dean first, but you can watch, and I’ll train with you after?’ She agreed, and he helped her mount the horse, cantering back to the Palace grounds.

**

Dean wiped sweat off his brow, looking thoroughly exhausted. Castiel cheered for him, but Dean turned the sword up, offering defeat. Sam grinned, put his sword down and chucked a water bottle to Dean. He was doing better, every time they sparred it was more challenging. The group had come to watch again, which explained Castiel appearing by Dean’s side, handing him a towel.

Gabriel came up to Sam, who smiled down at him. The Novak watched Dean and Castiel, who looked happy, then looked back up to Sam.

‘You manage to look hot, even when you’re all gross and sweaty.’ Sam laughed, Gabriel wiggling his eyebrows. He went to speak, went to say something flirty back, but he stopped when Eve walked across. She looked between them, probably thinking something, but she didn’t say anything. Gabriel looked slightly off-put, but Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, promising that they would talk later.

Eve stalked to the hidden room, tapping it and watching the blades appear. Sam walked into the ring, swinging his sword lazily, until he watched her pick Asmodeus’ blade. His heart sky-rocketed as she turned, getting the balance of it. The others had gone silent, waiting for Sam to tell her it wasn’t okay to fight with that blade, that he couldn’t deal with it.

Sam didn’t. Instead, he rose his blade, Eve doing the same. She had been trained by the same trainers he had, and so, when she swung, it was with precision. The blade was distracting, but Sam thoroughly ignored it as they fought, sand being kicked up as they danced back and forth. Eve was quick, light-footed but with a heavy blow. It was sometimes hard to keep up with the speed, but Sam enjoyed the challenge. She looked happy fighting, like it was her way of venting stress.

When Sam disarmed her, the sword falling to the floor, he lowered his instantly. Eve panted, smiling as she put her hands on her knees.

‘You got good.’ She stated, and Sam barked a laugh, turning to put his sword away. Thighs wrapping around his neck startled him, but he had seen the move done before. He had never really fought with a woman, although as a young child he had seen Eve fight. He took them both to the floor, jabbing his arm back so her legs recoiled, gripping muscle and twisting her arm. Her other arm reached out, hand grasping Asmodeus’ sword. He dodged the blow, just, a trickle of blood blooming on his shirt.

Eve gave him a look that told him he didn’t have to fight like this, that she would give him time to get his blade. He ignored it, stepping forward and ducking the first blow, foot reaching out and yanking her off balance. His arm blocked the second blow, thankful for arm pads, even if the sword did cut in slightly. He gripped her wrist, turned it so the sword fell, then pushed her down. She tapped twice, and he released.

‘That was good.’ She stated, draining the water bottle she took from the table. He nodded, looking to the sword by his feet. He didn’t want to hold it, but Eve didn’t look like she was going to put it away.

‘I’m heading to the showers. You alright putting it away?’ Sam just stared, feeling fear trickle as the blade lay at his feet. Suddenly, it was snatched away, Eve putting it on the rack and coming back to his side.

‘Oh, my poor boy. I’m sorry love, I forgot about Asmodeus. Come, let’s get you cleaned and fed.’ She took his hand, and he just awkwardly stared at it for a moment.

‘Why?’ He bluntly asked, and her smile never faded.

‘You’re my son, Sam. You don’t have to look after yourself anymore, I’m here.’ He stared at her for a moment, before he smiled back.

‘Thanks, Eve.’ Her smiled dropped ever so slightly, but Sam couldn’t call her mother, he had a mother. Mary.

‘What are mother’s for, dear.’ She stated, leading him from the room. He could have sworn she looked over his shoulder, back to the people who had watched, but he must have been imagining it.


	20. Issues Arise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam bonds with Mary, and Eve doesn't like it

A knock at the door drew Sam’s attention away from the sunset, padding barefoot to the door. It opened, and Sam was surprised to see Mary standing on the other side, wearing a pretty blue dress. She bobbed a curtsey that really wasn’t necessary, but he returned the formality.

‘Lady Mary?’

‘I was wondering if Dean was with you, your Majesty?’ She looked so nervous, and Sam felt just as bad. He politely shook his head, knowing exactly where his brother was.

‘I believe he is on a date with Castiel.’ He offered, and Mary smiled, nodding. She looked ready to leave, and words left Sam’s mouth before he could stop.

‘Do you want to join me? I have a bottle of wine and a sunset.’ Mary seemed just as surprised, but accepted the offer. Together, they walked to the balcony, and Sam poured her a glass. She looked at him, really looked, and he couldn’t help but let his eyes drift across her face, studying her features.

‘This is slightly awkward.’ He stated, and she laughed.

‘Yes, it is.’ She agreed, and he smiled.

‘How about we stop overthinking?’ Sam agreed to the suggestion, tilting his wine to hers. They clinked, and everything suddenly seemed a lot less scary.

**

‘Really?’ Sam barely managed to choke out, laughing so hard. Mary nodded her head, tears tracking down her face.

‘Yes. Broke his arm in the process, little baby Dean.’ Sam laughed harder, and Mary was laughing. Eventually, they settled, and Mary looked across.

‘Would it be alright if I braided your hair? I mean, it’s pretty long.’ Sam shifted, sitting down on the floor. They had moved inside when night had fell, and so Sam settled on the floor so that Mary could reach his hair. Her fingers curled into it, and Sam momentarily thought of Eve, before he shoved it away.

‘I suppose you’re happy that your mother is back?’ Mary inquired, fingers beginning the braid. Sam paused, thinking about it. He was, undoubtedly, but he wasn’t sure he wanted her back as a mother.

‘Eve? I’m happy she’s back, it means someone who understands Azazel… but, I’m not sure about her coming back as my mother. I mean…’ He stopped, not sure if she wanted to hear the words. She hmmed, urging him to continue.

‘You’re my mother. And, I’m happy with that.’ He bit his lip after, worried she would reject what he had just offered. Instead, hands found his shoulders, squeezing slightly. He rose his left hand, her fingers curling around it, and he relaxed.

‘I thought… I thought you would blame me. For your father.’ She stated quietly, and he turned, ignoring the braids. He was oddly reminded of earlier, kneeling in front of Eve, but this was his mother. He shook his head frantically, not understanding why he hadn’t done this sooner.

‘No! I thought you blamed me, for where he sent you.’ His voice broke, and he felt tears threaten to fall. Mary smiled softly, pulled him close so their foreheads touched, and cupped his cheek.

‘No, Sam. I don’t blame you. And, when you’re ready, I’ll tell you the story.’ He smiled, putting his hand over hers, nuzzling into it.

‘Would it be alright if I called you mother?’ He inquired, hoping she said yes. The tears answered for him, and he smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead, before resting his head back against hers.

‘Would it be alright if I call you Sam?’ He nodded, jostling the two of them, and they both laughed. Sam stared at the blue eyes, stared at the woman who was his biological mother, and knew he could trust her. Knew, in his heart, that she was one of only five people he could trust explicitly. He smiled, trying to show how happy he was about this.

**

Morning came, and Sam was walking down to the room for breakfast. Eve wasn’t in the room, but everyone else was, and Dean grinned when he came in. Sam nodded, moved across towards the coffee pot. Today’s breakfast was a buffet, rather than being served. Mary walked across, a bright smile on her face.

‘Good morning, Sam.’ She said, and Sam realised it was to try and show the others that they were getting along. Considering they never spoke in front of the group, that alone was enough to have heads spinning.

‘Good morning, mother.’ He said with a smile, walking across to peck her forehead. She beamed, before reaching for the coffee pot. Pouring him a mug as well, she handed it across, and he offered her a grin.

‘Plans for today?’ She inquired as they walked towards the table, Mary already having a plate full of food. Sam wasn’t that hungry, breakfast still made his stomach turn on occasion.

‘None so far. Would you like to go out riding?’ He asked politely, hoping she would say yes, he had so many things he wanted to show her. Her smile grew, and he felt like it was the right thing to say.

‘That would be lovely. After breakfast?’ Mary smiled brightly, and Sam wondered if this was what other people felt like when they had the opportunity to see their Mom. Sam nodded, looking across the room to Crowley, who looked equally pleased. He bowed, left the room, just as Eve walked in.

‘Good morning, Sam.’ Deja-vu, slightly. Sam smiled at Eve anyway, he was happy to have her here.

‘Good morning, Eve.’ He saw it, yet again, the slight hesitation. She grabbed some food, walked across to him slowly, with the grace of a woman who thought she would be Queen. Sam turned to her, ignoring the urge to incline his head. He had done so to Lady Abaddon, just to be safe.

‘Are you busy today?’ She asked, and Sam was strangely glad that he’d made plans with Mary.

‘Yes, I’m going out riding with Mother later.’ Sam quickly bit his tongue, realising just how stupid that had been. The plate next to him hit the table too hard, and Sam’s smile dropped as he looked to Eve’s face. Her eyes were wide, shocked, and Sam never wanted to hide so much.

‘Lady Eve…’

‘Leave it, Sam.’ She snarled the words, stalking away towards the door. The temper of Azazel, he noted, but it didn’t stop him from standing up.

‘Lady Eve, please.’ She continued to stalk, heels clicking as she walked to the door. Crowley had reappeared, looking confused as Eve reached for the handle. Sam, starting to panic, stood back sharply. His chair toppled, enough that Eve hesitated

‘Mom, please.’ He begged, and Eve stopped, turning with a slight smile. Sam was surprised by it, like she’d known he wouldn’t hold out. Something in him told him to run, to backtrack what he had just said, but he found himself walking towards her, bowing slightly to the woman who stood, back straight, like she was Queen.

‘That’s alright, my boy. Just a shock, that’s all. You remind me so much of your father, sometimes.’ He flinched, but didn’t back away. Eve looked pleased.

‘Come and see me after your ride, Samuel.’ That was a displeased tone, but Sam nodded anyway, watching her walk out of the door. Sam blinked, like coming out of a trance, and looked to Crowley.

‘I’m fucked.’ He muttered slightly too loudly, and Crowley nodded slowly.

‘Yes sire, it appears like you are.’ Sam snorted with laughter, before turning back to breakfast.


	21. Sammose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A royal dance. A princess. Eve keeping secrets. And a Moose

Three weeks later, Sam found himself organising the party of the year. Random invitations to anyone within the Kingdom, and invitations sent out to the King of Promea, William. His daughter, Joanna, was also coming. It was sort-of intended for Sam to start looking at common-born people to marry, but, between him and the Leader of his Council, Arnold Winters, Sam was wondering if it would be acceptable to marry a man.

This had nothing to do with the dates that he and Gabriel had gone on. Nothing at all. Nothing to do with the fact that they had got to Sam’s room, half-naked, before Sam had freaked out. Now not drunk, he was really struggling with Gabriel tracing his scars. The Novak had told him it was alright, that he didn’t expect anything from Sam. The picnics became regular, the horse-riding, the balcony meets.

His Mom was becoming closer to him, they actually spent time talking, although avoiding difficult topics. The day before the party found Sam in the main living room, the Novaks and Winchesters all sitting and listening to Crowley reading out the most important people coming. Charlie, who was now a regular, asked which ones were lesbians. That made most of the room chuckle.

‘Sire, it is expected that you dance with a woman, or man, from each Province.’ Sam nodded, of course that would be expected.

‘In advance, sire, the Lady Abaddon’s sister will be present. She has requested a dance.’ Sam nodded again, quite unsure why he had to dance with so many people, but he could manage. Eve, sitting beside him, looked amused.

‘You’ll be quite the catch with the ladies.’ She murmured, loud enough for everyone to hear, as she looked across. Sam, not entirely sure he was happy with that, shrugged.

‘Anything else?’ He asked Crowley, who shook his head. He bowed, left, and Sam turned to Eve.

‘Who did you invite?’ He knew she had asked for an invite, but hadn’t asked who she had invited.

‘His name is Adam. He’s five years younger than you are, son.’ Sam paused, deciding it wasn’t the time to argue, or ask what she was doing. Instead, Sam excused himself from the group, stopping when Eve’s voice rang out,

‘You should go through your father’s diary, Sam.’ He looked at her, realising she was trying to tell him something. Being Eve, it was probably not important.

**

His feet hurt. You could only dance with so many people, and he was, quite frankly, fed up. He had danced with both men and women, lots of people had praised him. Sam eventually managed a break, after dancing with Adine, the sister of Abaddon. Eve was in the corner, talking to a young man that looked rather weed-like. Sam didn’t walk across, but he had Arnold on the case, so he didn’t need to worry.

‘Your Majesty?’ He turned, a woman in a blue dress, blonde hair pinned above her head, stood. She curtseyed, the jewels on her neck glistening. He recognised her, of course. Princess Joanna Beth Harvelle, a woman who was only set to inherit the crown because he had saved their Kingdom. He bowed his head, taking her hand to kiss her knuckles. She was pretty, not his type, but pretty.

‘Princess Joanne, a pleasure.’ She smiled slightly, before gesturing to the dancefloor. He led her gently, placed a hand on her waist as they danced.

‘Why do you not just ask him, sire?’ Sam went to ask, before realising she was looking at Gabriel. He blushed dark red, and Joanne chuckled. Her eyes flicked onwards, landing on Charlie.

‘Why do you not ask, my lady?’ She smiled, and he could tell they were going to be friends. Her smile grew, especially when the song ended, and Sam led her across to his friends. They all looked slightly surprised, the men bowing, Charlie bobbing a curtsey.

‘Princess Joanne, may I introduce Lady Charlie.’ Joanne offered out her hand, Charlie took it, kissing it. Dean grinned at Sam, who kept his face neutral.

‘May I have a dance, Lady Charlie?’ Joanne inquired, and Charlie shot Sam a thankful look, before they walked away. Dean went to say something, but Sam turned, finding Gabriel on the other side of the room. Excusing himself from his brother and Castiel, he walked across to him. Gabriel turned, looking away from Meg and Michael.

‘May I have this dance?’ He inquired, and Gabriel’s eyes widened slightly. Then, probably realising he had danced with quite a lot of people, Gabriel accepted. Crowley, watching from the sidelines, looked amused.

‘Sammoose, you’re a good dancer.’ Gabriel remarked, and Sam shot him a smile. He wanted, so badly, to tell Gabriel that he wasn’t just doing this because he could. That he wanted to be by his side, that he wanted him to be by his side. But, Gabriel figured he was a fling. The rest of them did as well, figured Sam was just using him, but they knew that Gabriel was a player.

‘Thank you.’ He muttered close to Gabriel’s ear, enjoying him being so close. Eventually, the dance ended, and Sam walked across to find Arnold. The counsellor turned, bowing his head.

‘It would be accepted, your Majesty. The question of legacy isn’t a big issue, as you know, it would be accepted for an offspring to not be born of a Queen.’ Sam wasn’t sure how that would work yet, but he thanked his counsellor. Looking across to Eve, he wondered what she was planning. She looked right back at him, the man by her side meeting Sam’s eye. He could tell there was something there, that something was going to happen, but he didn’t question it. Not yet.

**

‘Samalam, you’re killing me.’ Sam giggled slightly, hands running up Gabriel’s torso, fingers tracing muscle. They were in one of the corridors, far away from the party, that had ended a while ago. The two were stumbling back towards Sam’s rooms, desperately trying to get somewhere where the rest of the clothes could fully come off. They stopped just before a turn, Sam holding a finger to his lover’s lips when he heard Eve’s voice. Gabriel stopped, leaning in.

‘Sam won’t like it. I’ll tell him tomorrow.’

‘I don’t want to do this! It’s wrong. The King is favoured by the entire Kingdom!’ Sam’s heart went cold, listening to Eve assure the younger person. Gabriel’s eyes widened, and Sam tugged him away. He didn’t want to think about it. They walked in silence until they reached the Novak residence, Sam leaning in to peck Gabriel’s lips.

‘Sammich…’

‘Don’t. I’m okay.’ He assured, and Gabriel nodded, although it was obvious he didn’t believe him. He kissed him, it turning deeper, until Sam pulled away. At least for tonight, everything was alright.


	22. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam struggles to keep control

He sat in the living room. Arnold was present, as his legal representative. Crowley was present, as Chief Guard. Dean, Cas, Meg, Michael, Lucifer, Charlie, Gabriel and Mary. Eve stood there, Adam behind her. Sam, sitting still on the chair, gestured for her to speak. Boy, did he regret that. It was the biggest mistake he’d ever made.

‘Adam is my son.’ Well. That certainly made things awkward. He looked to the kid, who was now like a brother to him. He blinked. There was no resemblance between them at all.

‘And you are telling me this, because?’ He inquired, looking to Adam, who was shaking his head slightly. That smallest signal was enough for Sam to know that Adam was stuck in this. Eve looked to her son, then back to Sam.

‘Because I want him legalised as a Prince, and put before the Winchester in heritage.’ Sam stopped, staring at her like she was mad. Actually mad.

‘You want me to put the son of a woman with no claim to the throne before a relation to the Crown?’ He’d basically just stated that Eve wasn’t her mother, and you could see the anger grow. Sam didn’t say anything, just watched her.

‘His father is a royal.’ That changed things. In fact, that made him dangerous.

‘Who.’

‘Asmodeus.’ It was like time stopped. Eve looked hopeful, but Sam was starting to understand why Eve had been sent away. Very slowly, he leant forwards, staring at her with anger.

‘You’re telling me that he,’ He pointed to Adam, ‘is the son of Azazel’s lover, and his brother?’ Eve nodded. Sam stood. Adam backed away.

‘Did you tell Azazel about me.’ He asked, and Eve knew what he was saying. Knew that Eve had known what Asmodeus had done, or started to do, to Sam. She had made it appear like she had told Azazel, and hence had been sent away. Eve looked nervous, and Sam took a step closer.

‘Did. You. Tell. Him.’ The woman he thought was his mother.

‘No.’ She admitted, and Sam felt it like a blow to his heart.

‘Did you know, before you slept with him?’ Eve didn’t answer. Sam looked to Adam, who got the hint, leaving the room quickly. Sam turned back to Eve, stared right at her.

‘Sam, please, my son.’

‘YOU AREN’T MY MOTHER.’ He screamed, felt the blood coming to his head. Eve flinched back, and he was aware that he probably reminded her of Azazel.

‘Yes, I knew. And yes, I slept with him after.’ Sam sat down sharply, before he passed out. His mind reeled, trying to understand why she had done that. How, the beautiful women he had known as a toddler, he’d known when he was four, when Asmodeus had first… No.

‘Why didn’t you do anything?’ He found himself asking, voice cracking halfway through. Eve looked at him calmly. Like she knew he was going to ask.

‘You weren’t my son. I needed an heir.’ Sam just stared at her. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t even know how to comprehend what he had heard.

‘Sam, love, please. I care about you, I love you. I just want my son provided for.’ Sam listened to the words, realising anyone who had spent time with Azazel had been poisoned.

‘How can you say that you care for me?’ He inquired, trying to keep his voice level, despite how his heart was threatening to burst. Eve was crying now, like she was the one that was hurt.

‘I do!’ She sobbed, and Sam found himself standing, inches from her face as he screamed,

‘HE WAS A MONSTER. ASMODEUS DID NOTHING BUT HURT ME. I WAS FOUR, EVE. FOUR.’ He shoved her, watching her slam back into the door. Sam stood over her, watching the woman cower, and feeling slightly like Azazel.

‘Sam, I didn’t… I thought he’d stop.’ Sam blinked, and he realised she was serious. Eve plundered on, ‘He promised me he’d stop, once we were married, and our son was the heir.’ Eve had been plotting to take his throne.

‘He didn’t. Not until he died, when he was fourteen. Ten years of abuse, Eve. Ten years of my Uncle RAPING me, and you knew!’ Eve sobbed, knees buckling, and she slid to the floor. Sam just stared at her, staring at the woman that had been his mother. Then, he just shoved her out the way, leaving the room. He didn’t want to be here. He needed to find Adam.

**

‘I don’t want you as my heir. No offence. I’ll give you a title, one that will mean you will marry well. But that’s it. I don’t want you near me.’ Adam nodded, and Sam dismissed him. He looked out of the window, walked out onto the balcony, looked across the scenery. He found himself climbing over the barrier, found his bare feet on the ledge on the other side. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, felt the wind rush through his hair.

He’d grown up with two men who had used him to get what they wanted. Now, he thought he had a new life. Thought he had a chance to get on top, then Eve strolls in, ruins everything he thought he knew. He looked down to the square below him, wondering if the God that helped him win the fight would forgive his weakness. If he could let go, and if he would feel the weight off his shoulders gone.

Screwing his eyes shut, he listened to his heartbeat, surprisingly steady. Perhaps that was because this was what he wanted. He wasn’t sure anymore, had thought everything was simple. He thought being King would solve everything that had happened. He looked down, letting go of the railing. One step, that was all it would take. Then, he wouldn’t feel anything. Wouldn’t feel the hurt, the sadness of what had happened, of having to know the woman he thought was his mother had slept with the man that had hurt him. He’d never said the words aloud, they were strangely bitter on his tongue.

Then, his mind thought to Gabriel. It was enough that he grabbed back hold of the balcony, before someone shouted his name. Hands gripped his jacket, he was hauled back. He stared at faces. His brother, his Mom, his lover. His main Guard, who looked just as worried.

‘Sam? Can you hear me?’ That was Mary, she was speaking, and he wanted her to help him, but his head was spinning, and he shut his eyes to avoid the disappointed looks, then dropped to the floor.


	23. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam acts like a King

He hadn’t spoken in four days. He knew that, but he just couldn’t do it. He lay there, staring at the ceiling as Charlie came in. She had tried every day, as had Hannah, and he couldn’t do anything. He just stayed still, even as the bed dipped.

‘Hey, Sam. Feel like talking today?’ Charlie was his friend, but Sam couldn’t find it in him to move. It just didn’t happen. She sighed, took his blood pressure as he lay there. His eyes flicked across, memories plaguing his mind.

‘Sam, your Council need to talk to you. Would you like Dean to…’

‘Council?’ He croaked, and Charlie’s eyes widened. It was like she had a brainwave, because a smile grew.

‘Yes, your Majesty, your Council need you.’ Sam felt his body moving, even though he wasn’t really sure how he was doing it. He stripped down, then redressed into his official King clothing. The crown sat upon his head, and he left the room. It was weird, it was him, but he wasn’t really doing anything. It was like autopilot.

The Council was boring. The things they needed were simple, the responses Sam gave was were years of ingrained knowledge. He didn’t look to his friends, or to Crowley, or to Arnold. Suicide? Had he really been going to step off the ledge? He wasn’t entirely sure, which was why he was currently not doing a lot. Eventually, the Council told him that Eve had been imprisoned. He wondered why they didn’t start with that, then figured it was probably because Sam was unstable.

‘She attacked one of the Guards, then started shouting how you shouldn’t be King, sire. Her… son, Adam, had admitted to Eve attempting to push him to the throne. Sire, I think it would be best to hold her for treason.’ Sam just nodded, thinking that was probably best.

‘I agree. Have the trial.’ The councillors looked surprised, but that was alright. Sam didn’t mind if they were worried, he could look after himself. 

‘And the boy, sire?’ Sam had a cousin? Was that it? If Eve wasn’t his mother, then that made it simpler, he supposed.

‘Let him be.’ Sam stated, and waited for his Council to bring up something else. They didn’t, and so Sam figured he was probably done. That was nice. He felt like going to see his father’s grave. Needed some time to think.

‘The trial will be held this afternoon. If execution is chosen, it will be held at sunset.’ Arnold stated, like they wanted Sam to disagree. He didn’t, just nodded, then dismissed them.

**

Sam thought he should probably be sad when he found out that Eve was to be executed. He thought he should feel sorry for her when Adam didn’t try and save her. But Sam didn’t feel sorry, he just dismissed the Guard, going to see her. The Executioner gave him a look, one that Sam didn’t return, stepping into the cell. Eve looked up, eyes sad, staring right at him as he sat down slowly on the edge of the bed.

‘I’m sorry for getting angry.’ He finally stated, and Eve looked at him, before she stood. The bed dipped as she sat beside him, and Sam looked across, found her eyes filled with tears. He took her hand, looped their fingers together, despite the pain that flicked across his stomach.

‘I was wrong about you, Sam.’ She muttered, and Sam kept his head down. He felt Eve’s tears hit their conjoined hands, and he wondered why she had done this. Why she had pushed herself to treason, why everyone around him seemed to try and beat him.

‘You’re nothing like Azazel. You’re more like me.’ She stated, and Sam wished that was true. He turned, offering out his arms. Eve fell in them, but they both knew what was going to happen. He kept her close, felt her heartbeat, felt her breathing steadily. She looked up, eyes glistening with tears, and Sam bit his tongue.

‘You’re a good King, Sam. I’m sorry that it’s this hard.’ Sam nodded slowly, before he wrapped his arms tighter, pushed the needle into the side of her neck. Eve gasped slightly, eyes fluttered, and Sam held her as she shook for the smallest of seconds, before her body went limp. He watched the eyes that had now glazed over shed one last tear, watched the hands that were holding him release the grip as she left him, as everyone left him.

He hadn’t wanted her to go to the axe. This way, it was easier. Safer. It wasn’t technically allowed, Sam should have let her go, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t hurt her, even if she hurt him, tried to dethrone him. He stroked the hair out of her face, pressed a kiss to her forehead, then left the room. The executioner gave him a brief nod, one that conveyed enough, and the King walked away from the cells, back to his room.

**

The next morning, when the news at breakfast was that the Lady Eve had died to unknown causes, Sam merely gave a nod, looking to Arnold in a way that told him he didn’t need to pursue that any further. The Councillor bowed, and Sam looked down to the Cygnet ring, realising that it was quite difficult to be a King, even harder to be a good person to his family. He informed Crowley that he was going riding, then turned and walked out of the room, thinking back to the evening before.

Thunder carried him far, racing through the woods, Sam lost in thought about how he just needed to forget this happened, he just needed to pretend that this didn’t happen. Eve was gone, sure, but she had been before. It wasn’t any different, he told himself, Eve had always been gone. It didn’t matter that she had betrayed him, it didn’t matter. He just needed to sort this out, to straighten his mind.

Upon returning, he found the parcel that he’d ordered from Arnold sitting on the desk. He’d completely forgotten about it, but the King opened it anyway, staring at the ring. He wondered if he was being stupid, trying to tie a man to him when he was so evidently broken. He thought back to how he had felt when he was with his lover, how the families thought he was just using Gabriel. How Gabriel thought he was just being used as a pass-time, how he expected this to end. Sam looked down to the ring, probably equally expensive to the one he wore on his finger, then put it in the draw and shut it. Not yet, he thought quietly.


	24. Rainy Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam makes his decision

The sun streamed in steadily, and Sam glanced across to his lover. Gabriel was tucked against Sam, head resting in the crook of his neck, limbs curled around him. Sam stroked his hair carefully, wondering how to bring up the conversation.

‘Happy?’ He asked quietly, Gabriel actually purring, looking at him contently, like a cat. Sam chuckled, tracing circles on his bare shoulders.

‘I’m glad we have this.’ Sam offered, and Gabriel looked up, sleepy eyes widening slightly. Sam pressed a kiss to his forehead, waiting for him to speak.

‘So am I.’ Gabriel said, kissing his neck. Sam tilted, giving him better access, unable to deny Gabriel anything. If he asked, Sam would give him the world.

‘When does this stop, Gabe?’ He asked, and the man instantly tensed up. Sam quickly reassured him, saying he just wanted to know if Gabriel wanted this to end.

‘Of course not. We do this for as long as you want.’ Gabriel said, and Sam happily curled up, letting himself drift back to sleep. He pretended not to hear Gabriel murmur an I love you when he thought Sam was asleep, the King thinking back to the ring in the drawer.

**

‘He still doesn’t believe me.’ Sam stated, looking to Crowley. All of the Council had agreed to the engagement, and Sam had authorisation to ask for Gabriel’s hand in marriage. But he didn’t know how, didn’t even know how to begin exploring it. Crowley looked across, a slight smile on his face.

‘Maybe, Sire, you should just go for it. Walk in, take his hand, drag him into the rain and propose.’ Sam looked to the head Guard, listening, then looked out of the window to the rain. He hesitated, then nodded.

‘You’re right.’

The King went to his room, got dressed into casual clothing, pocketed the box. It was dinner time, so Gabriel would be in the main room, and Sam was happy that he had ordered the garden to be cleaned yesterday. This would be perfect. Nerves fluttered, and Sam had to convince himself to open the door, pacing anxiously. Eventually, he flung the door open, striding to the dining room. He would just go for it, he mused, and be damned with the consequences. Too long waiting for things to be right, rather than making them right. This had been going on for months now, and Sam was ready to share the Burden of the Crown with someone else.

He opened the door, his family smiling to him as he walked in. His eyes found Gabriel, who looked ravishing, not that Sam would say that until they were alone. He walked across sharply, Gabriel watching with a look of amusement. Although they knew what was going on between them, Sam didn’t act like this in front of them, nothing more than friends.

‘C’mon, I’ve got something to show you.’ Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows playfully, but Sam just looped their fingers together and led them out of the room. He walked him through the corridors, wondering if Gabriel had noticed how the Guards were bowing to him as well as the King. The rain was cold, and Gabriel gasped as they stepped out.

‘This is ridiculous.’ He laughed, but stripped off his shoes, running out onto the grass. Sam joined, laughing as Gabriel narrowly avoided falling into a hedge, tugging him back. It was perfect, he thought, and so very THEM. Only when they started shivering, clothes clinging to skin, did Sam turn to his lover and take his hands.

‘I love you.’ Gabriel’s eyes widened, so Sam blundered on. He pulled the box out, dropped down to one knee, watched Gabriel sway slightly, like he was going to pass out.

‘I’ve spent weeks trying to figure out how to do this, trying to think about the most expensive restaurants, gifts to flatter you with, everything that I could give you. Each scene I imagined seemed wrong, so unlike us, and eventually I decided it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how I proposed to you, because with you and me, everything just happens perfectly. Gabriel, I know this isn’t what you were expecting, marriage to a man that can’t hope to compete with you. But I’m offering you me, regardless of the Crown, although you would look good with one.’ He winked, keeping a steady hold of the man who looked ready to pass out, ‘Gabriel Novak, will you do me the honour of becoming my husband?’ Sam inquired, and Gabriel nodded slowly, and Sam beamed.

The ring slipped on carefully, and Gabriel just stared, before he looked up.

‘THAT’S WHY THEY’VE BEEN BOWING!’ He exclaimed loudly, then pounced. Sam caught him, laughed as Gabriel’s limbs wrapped around him like an octopus, before their faces mashed together awkwardly, the kiss all teeth and desperation and Gabriel’s cheeks were wet but it wasn’t from the rain, and this was perfect.

‘I love you too, Samshine. My Sammoose, my Samalam.’ He kissed him after every word, looking down to the ring, then back to Sam, who kept holding him close, scared this would end. The rain was still hammering down, and it was getting cold, but he didn’t physically think he had it in him to break this moment.

‘This looks expensive.’ Gabriel muttered, doubt lining his voice.

‘Nothing is too expensive for the King Consort of the realm, Angel.’ He muttered, and Gabriel’s eyes widened, before he shook his head.

‘I’m not a King, Moose. Just yours, wherever you go. I’m like a limpet, I stay attached.’ Sam burst out laughing, before he threw Gabriel over his shoulder, carrying him back to the Palace. Gabriel whined the entire way, but Sam promised him some hot chocolate, carrying him towards the living room. He put Gabriel down, wrapping him in a blanket from the back of the couch.

‘You look good all soaked.’ Gabriel stated, eyeing him up and down. Sam laughed, told him to stay put while he went to get hot chocolate. Of course, being Gabriel, he had left the room. It wasn’t hard to find him, he was wandering towards the dining room, complaining of a lack of food. Sam laughed, chasing him towards the room. Crowley was on Guard, looked amused as he flung the door open, the two skidding into the room. Everyone was sat at the table like usual, although the King’s seat had the empty one next to it, the one that was saved for the Queen, or in this case, King Consort of the realm.

Gabriel breathed in heavily, like he knew that the seat saved next to Castiel would no longer be his. Sam walked forwards, knew Gabriel was shuddering under the blanket, before Crowley stepped forwards.

‘Your Grace, may I suggest a seat, before you flop on the floor.’ Gabriel barked a laugh, but followed Crowley awkwardly. Sam smiled, watched Gabriel take the seat next to his, watched his friends and family look between them. Sam walked slowly, watched Gabriel unwrap the blanket, and murmurs spread as eyes focused on the ring.

‘Samalam, this is an uncomfortable chair.’ Gabriel stated, Crowley biting his lip to stop a laugh. Sam sat next to him, glancing across to his fiancé with fondness.

‘Then we’ll get you a new one.’ He assured, and Gabriel chuckled lowly.

‘I don’t know if marrying me is a good idea Sammich, I’m really bad with expensive stuff.’ Sam smirked, taking Gabriel’s hand in his. The Novak looked pleased, before he turned sharply to look at Chuck. Chuck gave a knowing smile, and Gabriel turned back to Sam.

‘Did you seriously ask my Dad?’ Sam blushed, looking down to his plate. Of course he did, wasn’t he supposed to?

‘Yes.’ He admitted, and Gabriel slumped in the throne.

‘You’re something else, Sam.’ He stated, and leant across to kiss his cheek. Sam smiled, realising this would all be alright.


	25. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel gets used to being Fiance to the King. Lil bit of smut

Gabriel woke up, blinking back sleep as he looked around. He was surprised to find the other side of the bed empty, Sam usually slept well into the morning now that they were together. Gabriel rose up, still not quite used to sleeping every night in the King’s Chambers. Technically, he had his own. They used to belong to Sam, before he moved to Azazel’s quarters. It was only three weeks until the wedding, and Gabriel had been surprised by how many people were happy for the wedding.

The people, upon hearing the news, had taken to the streets and paraded. Invites had been sent out across the Kingdom, and to the neighbouring Kingdom of Promea, and Gabriel had gone through the Invite List three times. He knew that he was panicking slightly, but, in all due respect, he hadn’t expected this. He’d thought he would get replaced, which was why he had been so worried, because he had fallen for Sam.

But, he didn’t need to worry. Sam had proposed, and now Gabriel was happy. He walked across the room, grabbed a robe, then opened the door. Walking down the corridors, Gabriel could almost get used to the Guards bowing their heads as he walked down. Crowley was in front of the library, which meant Sam was probably inside. He opened the door, smiled as he spotted Sam.

‘Leaving me in the bed on my own?’ Gabriel asked, mock-sad. Sam chuckled, left the book that was on the side and wrapped an arm around Gabriel, pressing his head into the crook of Gabriel’s neck. He tilted his head, letting Sam nuzzle him softly.

‘Sorry, love.’ Gabriel could get used to be called that for all eternity, he thought happily, before looking to the book. It looked to be some sort of law book, probably the new Accords that Sam had brought out.

‘What’s this?’ Sam hesitated, before tilting the book in his direction. Gabriel read the bit that Sam pointed to, understanding crossing his mind. Of course, Sam would require an heir. And, because they were both male, it had been accepted that an heir could be born of one of their DNA, and raised by them. Gabriel looked up to Sam, and, although he had never really thought about having kids, he could admit that it was something he would consider with Sam.

‘Love, don’t worry. This,’ He tapped the book, then bopped Sam on the nose, ‘Can be sorted out. I’d love to have children with you. Little Moose’s running around.’ Sam snorted at that, but looked less worried, so Gabriel could consider his job done. He pressed back against Sam’s side, happy to kiss his fiancé, until there was a knock at the door.

‘Sire, I don’t need to remind you that it is breakfast, and that you have a Council meeting afterwards.’ Gabriel’s heart rate leaped, it would be his first Council meeting sitting beside Sam. He was, in all respects, now acting King-Consort. He could get used to most aspects, got used to being able to pardon people, and dealing with basic policies. But Council meetings… he was supposed to be able to direct his to-be Husband in the Kingdom.

Sam laughed, looking straight at him, and Gabriel realised he had gone quite still. Sam pulled him close, and Gabriel had to admit, the Moose was tall and wide enough to basically cover him.

‘Don’t worry, you don’t need to do anything. Just sit and look pretty.’ Sam stated, and Gabriel could do that, he thought.

‘Do we get to have steamy hot sex after?’ He heard the Guard outside the door snort, shuffling away slightly. Sam looked amused, kissed his forehead, then his cheeks, then finally brushed their lips together.

‘Whatever you want, love.’ That was also good, Gabriel thought, kissing Sam happily.

**

Turns out, it wasn’t as hard as he thought. The Council seemed impressed by Gabriel’s knowledge, like they expected him to have no clue. He had been doing enough research to know the basics, and so could answer the questions posed. Sam looked more and more pleased, until the Council were eventually dismissed, as were the families, his and Sam’s, and they were left alone.

Gabriel laughed happily as Sam grabbed him, tugging him up to straddle him as they kissed.

‘Someone’s hot and bothered.’ Gabriel stated, before focusing on sucking a mark onto the base of Sam’s neck. His fiancé, as Gabriel kept calling him to help it sink in, groaned, tilting his hips up seeking friction. He was glad the room was empty, and that nobody could enter without permission. This could be fun, he thought.

‘Looked so hot, telling them what to do.’ Sam mumbled, a blush covering his cheeks as Gabriel unbuttoned the stupid formal wear that he now had to abide to. He laughed slightly against his chest, Sam grumbling and trying to batt his hands away, before Gabriel chuckled and continued kissing.

Pretty quickly, clothes were unbuttoned, Sam bending over the throne in such a delectable position that Gabriel stopped to admire. Sam was completely naked, a stunning contrast to Gabriel’s dressed form, but it just made it all the more hot. Sam whined softly as Gabriel traced fingers down his spine, admiring his form. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d got this lucky, had found someone that suited him so perfectly.

Sam, evidently getting impatient, wiggled his hips back at Gabriel. Never was he more pleased that Sam was plugged, because it meant that this would be so much more fun. Just because he could take this quickly, didn’t mean Gabriel would. Teasing was fun, Sam was very responsive, and one sharp smack to his gorgeous ass had Sam gasping. Gabriel purred happily, removing the plug and sinking in, Sam pushing back against him.

‘So beautiful, perfect for me, my Moose.’ Praise made his fiancé keen happily, and Gabriel littered kisses to his back.

**

Crowley, who evidently knew what they had been doing, sent Sam a smirk as they walked back towards their Chambers. If Sam was walking funny, nobody commented on it, apart from Gabriel. He was happy, really happy, and Sam looked the same. The afternoon was spent lounging, Sam resting his head against Gabriel’s stomach on the ridiculously large bed.

‘Something on your mind, Sammich?’ He asked. Sam usually opened up when he was ready, telling him small things about his life prior to meeting them. Of course, Gabriel knew a lot. A dick Dad, a dick Uncle, a manipulative bitch of a step-Mom. Sam was always hesitant to speak of Eve, even though he had admitted to her death.

‘I wish he was proud.’ His lover admitted, and Gabriel didn’t have to ask to know they were talking about Azazel. Sam, despite pushing everyone away, did need affection. He was touch-starved, which was entirely why these afternoons worked well. Gabriel was happy with him being a clingy octopus.

‘I’m proud. Dean’s proud. Your Mom is proud. You have a family, Sam. And we’re all proud.’ Gabriel couldn’t even try and think that Azazel would have been proud, couldn’t see him as human. Not when he could see the scars littering Sam’s body, not when he knew exactly what the man had done to his son. But, he didn’t need to, because Sam was happy with what Gabriel had said, snuggling closer.

‘I love you, Gabe.’

‘I love you too, Moose.’


End file.
